0&TUNES  Or  A 


UNIV.  OP  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS 


44  mm.  m 


"Nun  ade  du  mein  lieb  Heimathland .'" 


PLUCK 


Being  a  faithful  narrative  of  the 
fortunes  of  a  little  "Greenhorn" 
in  America. 


BY 

GEORGE   GRIMM. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  MARK  FORREST. 


GERMANIA    PUBLISHING  CO., 
Milwaukee,  WIs. 


COPYRIGHTED    1904 

BY 
GEORGE  GRIMM. 


Dedicated 

To  My 

German- American  Friends. 


2130357 


PREFACE. 


preparing  this  narrative,  my  constant  earnest 
wish  has  been  to  awaken  a  slight  pride  of 
blood  in  the  hearts  of  our  foreign  born  citi- 
zens —  particularly  our  German-Americans  — 
which  will  cause  them  to  cling  to  the  good  traits  of 
their  ancestors  and  engraft  them  on  their  "seedlings" 
sprouting  on  Freedom's  soil. 

While  to  some  the  story  may  seem  mere  fiction, 
there  are  hundreds  of  thousands  still  living  whom,  if 
it  should  chance  to  meet  their  eye,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  convince  that  it  is  other  than  a  truthful  nar- 
rative of  facts — as  indeed  it  is — the  like  of  which  they 
have  themselves  in  part  experienced  or  witnessed.  And 
there  are  others,  of  different  blood,  —  thoughtful,  ob- 
serving men  who  have  keenly  followed  the  evolution 
which  has  created  from  manifold  elements  a  splendid 
whole  —  who  will  see  in  Phillip  Bertram  one  typical  of 
a  people  who  have  done  much  to  stamp  principles  of 
economy,  industry,  perseverance  and  integrity  upon 

V 


the  American  national  character.  I  have  endeavored 
to  present  him  as  he  was ;  but  it  is  quite  possible  that 
I  may  have  overlooked  some  of  his  shortcomings— in- 
deed for  me  none  ever  existed  —  and  presented  to  the 
reader  only  his  best  side.  If  I  have  it  is  but  natural, 
for  we  are  all  prone  to  forget  the  little  faults  and  re- 
menber  only  the  good  traits  of  admirable  men. 

GEORGE  GRIMM. 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    "That   little   German    Home  across  the 

Sea"  1 

II.    On  the  Ocean     -  21 

III.  "In   dot  city  wot  de   peobles  call  Nuw 

York"  47 

IV.  New  Friends       -  60 
V.    Lost  in  New  York  69 

VI.    The  search  successful  75 

VII.    "Learning  the  ropes"  u     -  86 

VIII.    The  Night  School       -  94 

IX.    The  Fight  between  Chums  106 

X.    Why  Phillip  left  New  York  -       115 

XL    Peter  Gross  143 

XII.    A  Year  in  Philadelphia  -        166 

XIII.  A  Good  Friend  Gone  Forever  172 

XIV.  In  the  Woods  of  Wisconsin  -       182 
XV.    The  Mass  Meeting  at  Glauber's  Hall  195 

XVI.    An  Expert  Witness  210 

VII 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII.  Jack  Makes  a  Trade  -  219 

XVIII.  He  had  to  shout  -  •  -  231 

XIX.  The  War  -  242 

XX.  Doctor  Lawrence  and  Bessie  -  253 

XXI.  Phillip  and  Bessie  260 

XXII.  Happy,  Happy  Days  -  269 

XXIII.  In  the  Old  "Heimath"  -                    -    276 

XXIV.  A  Last  Look  279 


INDEX  TO    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

"Nun  ade  da  mein  lieb  Heimathland",    -    Frontispiece 

" 'You  let  the  Kid  alone'", 60 

"Two  men  were  driving-  ox  teams",         -       -  182 

" 'Halt,  Landsleute !'" 202 

"'You  don't  think  they've  got  the  heaves?"'      -  224 

"He  made  a  dash  for  liberty,  into  the  darkness".  246 

1  'Look  at  me  darling!1  " 266 

"  'Look1,  and  he  placed  his  arms  about  her"       -  282 


VIII 


PLUCK. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

'THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA/' 

T  was  early  in  the  year  1844,  before  the  rev- 
olutionary wave  which  culminated  in  the 
flight  or  exile  from  the  Fatherland  of  so 
many  of  the  freedom-loving  Teutons  had 
reached  its  climax,  and  many  years  before  the  great 
King  Wilhelm  and  the  iron  Bismarck  cemented  into 
one  grand,  powerful  empire  the  many  petty  German 
states  or  kingdoms. 

In  a  little  village,  picturesquely  situated  at  the 
edge  of  a  valley  in  the  midst  of  the  famous  "Fichtel- 
gebirg"  of  upper  Bavaria,  there  were  sitting  around 
a  rude  table  on  equally  rude  benches  and  chairs, 
Adam  Bertram,  his  wife  Barbara,  and  his  five  chil- 
dren, ranging  from  seventeen  down  to  five  years  of 
age.  The  look  of  deep  earnestness  resting  upon  the 
faces  of  the  parents  and  the  older  children  hushed  to 
seriousness  even  the  youngest  member  of  the  family ; 
and  the  deep  emotion  which  had  just  vibrated  in  the 
father's  voice  found  its  emphasis  in  the  subdued  sobs 


PLUCK 

and  tearful  eyes  of  the  mother.  Little  "Fritzie"  did 
not  know  what  it  all  meant ;  but  the  solemnity  of  the 
others  oppressed  him  and  he  huddled  up  to  his  mother 
in  quiet  awe. 

The  room  in  which  they  were  seated  was  cleanly, 
but  small,  and  bore  evidence  of  great  poverty.  Ad- 
joining this  were  two  others,  one  used  as  sleeping 
room  by  the  older  children;  the  other  by  their  par- 
ents and  the  baby.  Adjoining  the  house,  and,  in  fact, 
built  under  the  same  roof,  was  a  small  stable  accom- 
modating a  cow,  a  goat  and  some  chickens.  This  lit- 
tle home  with  its  contents  comprised  the  worldly 
possessions  of  Herr  Adam  Bertram,  the  schoolmas- 
ter of  the  village. 

Mr.  Bertram  was  a  man  of  fair  education — fully 
equal  to  the  requirements  of  his  position — and  pos- 
sessed that  happy  combination  of  firmness  of  char- 
acter and  kindness  of  heart  which  always  wins  re- 
spect and  love.  His  ready  advice  and  quick  solici- 
tude in  misfortune  had  long  since  endeared  him  to 
the  villagers ;  and  it  was  only  dire  present  necessity 
that  compelled  them  to  cause  their  beloved  school- 
master the  increased  cares  which  now  burdened  him. 

But  Adam  Bertram  was  not  a  man  to  succumb  to 
adversity.  The  school  of  life  in  which  he  had  been 
reared  was  one  of  constant  struggle,  and  each  victory 
had  increased  his  confidence  in  ultimate  success. 
Thrown  upon  his  own  resources  in  early  childhood, 
losing  his  parents  when  he  was  but  nine  years  of 
age,  he  stood  alone  in  the  world,  dependent  upon  the 
scant  and  grudging  charity  of  relatives.  The 
burden  of  supporting  him  was  shifted  from  one  to 

2 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

another — the  one  having  the  most  work  on  hand  be- 
ing usually  the  most  willing  to  take  temporary  charge 
of  the  boy.  Being  looked  upon  as  an  intruder,  he 
received  no  more  than  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
protect  his  body  with  tolerable  decency  and  to  par- 
tially appease  the  healthy  appetite  of  a  sturdy,  grow- 
ing lad.  But  even  at  that  time  little  Adam  made 
friends,  and  the  good  minister  of  the  village  under- 
took to  enlarge  the  boy's  education,  which  had  been 
interrupted  by  the  death  of  his  parents.  Little  time 
was  left  him  for  amusements,  and  the  hours  usually 
devoted  by  other  children  to  recreation  were  given  to 
study  and  instruction.  This  brought  about  the  nat- 
ural result  of  early  maturing  the  strength  and  earn- 
estness of  character  which  afterwards  distinguished 
him. 

When  he  was  twelve  years  of  age,  his  relatives  re- 
fused to  further  support  him,  and  he  was  apprenticed 
to  a  blacksmith,  a  man  of  cruel  disposition  and  rigid 
mles.  He  no  longer  had  leisure  time  to  study,  and 
was  often  obliged  to  work  beyond  his  physical  ability. 
In  less  than  a  year  after  being  apprenticed  he  quietly 
and  secretly  bade  good-bye  to  the  good  old  minister 
and  a  few  confidential  friends,  and  thereafter 
was  seen  no  more  in  his  native  village.  He  drifted 
about  from  town  to  town,  sometimes  obtaining  em- 
ployment, more  frequently,  however,  dependent  on 
charity,  and  still  oftener  suffering  from  want  of  the 
ordinary  necessaries  of  life.  When  he  was  fifteen 
years  of  age  he  finally  secured  permanent  employment 
from  an  old  widowed  lady  whom  he  had  asked  for 
aid  during  his  wanderings.  She  gave  him  to  eat, 

3 


PLUCK 

and  with  kindness  and  open  sympathy,  gradually 
elicited  from  him  the  story  of  his  life.  When  she 
found  that  he  had  a  fairly  good  education,  she  em- 
ployed him  upon  her  farm,  and  long  before  he  reached 
the  age  of  twenty  he  was  overseer,  with  sufficient  in- 
come to  enable  him  to  lay  aside  a  little  for  future 
wants. 

It  was  during  this  period  of  his  life  that  he  first 
became  acquainted  with  his  present  wife,  Barbara, 
then  a  bright,  cheerful  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  book- 
seller in  a  neighboring  village.  They  learned  to  love 
one  another,  and  many  an  instructive  book  was  se- 
cured from  her  father's  store  for  Adam's  use,  who 
strenuously  labored  during  his  leisure  hours  to  per- 
fect his  neglected  education. 

For  years  he  saved  up  his  small  earnings  and  long 
they  looked  forward  to  the  happy  time  of  their  union 
when  he  would  be  able  to  provide  a  home.  The  death 
of  his  benefactress  and  the  subsequent  division  of  her 
estate  threw  him  out  of  employment,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  look  about  for  other  work.  As  yet  he  had 
not  saved  up  sufficient  to  provide  for  a  wife  and  fam- 
ily; but  he  courageously  said  good-bye  to  his  sweet- 
heart and  started  southward,  finally  drifting  to  this 
little  village  among  the  hills  of  Bavaria.  Here  he 
was  offered  the  position  of  schoolmaster,  and  prompt- 
ly accepted.  The  times  then  being  good,  he  was  able 
to  save  up  some  of  his  earnings,  and  within  a  year 
thereafter  he  sent  for  his  bride,  and  they  were  mar- 
ried in  the  little  home  where  we  find  them  at  the 
opening  of  this  story. 

4 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

That  they  were  happy  it  is  needless  to  say,  and 
their  union  was  blessed  with  five  children.  Thus  far 
there  had  been  no  extreme  difficulty  in  supporting 
them,  as  the  children  were  brought  up  to  work  and 
assist  in  their  own  support.  But  things  had  changed. 
The  turbulent  times  referred  to,  which  took  their 
rise  in  the  depressed  social  conditions  and  the  pov- 
erty of  the  people,  were  beginning  to  be  felt  with 
increased  intensity.  Rigid  economy  became  a  neces- 
sity ;  wages  and  salaries  had  to  be  reduced ;  and  Adam 
Bertram  found  himself  in  a  position  where  his  pay 
was  insufficient  to  support,  his  family  at  a  time  when 
his  children  were  still  too  young  to  shift  for  them- 
selves. 

It  had  been  the  practice  of  Mr.  Bertram  always  to 
take  the  whole  family  into  his  confidence  and  consult 
with  them  on  all  questions  pertaining  to  their  wel- 
fare; and  the  many  moments  of  earnest  considera- 
tion, advice  and  admonition  had  borne  their  fruit 
upon  his  young  sons.  Though  some  of  them  lived  to 
a.  ripe  old  age,  they  never  forgot  the  teachings  in- 
stilled into  their  youthful  minds,  and  ever  blessed 
their  father  as  the  cause  of  their  life's  success.  The 
broad  charity  and  Christian  faith,  which  he  taught 
them,  moulded  their  minds  and  shaped  the  course  of 
their  future  lives.  To-night's  meeting  was,  however, 
the  most  serious  consultation  they  had  ever  had,  be- 
cause it  involved  the  breaking  up  of  the  family.  The 
father  had  just  told  them  of  the  action  of  the  village 
trustees,  which  reduced  his  salary  so  that  he  would 
be  unable  to  support  them  all  in  the  future,  and  ha.d 
concluded  his  remarks  with  the  following  words: 


PLUCK 

"Many  years  have  I  served  them  faithfully,  and 
they  would  do  more  for  me  if  they  could ;  but  they 
cannot  without  starving  their  own  families.  I  have 
foreseen  this  since  last  summer  when  the  hail  de- 
stroyed so  much  of  the  crop,  but  hoped  that  it  could 
be  put  off  until  riper  years  and  understanding  would 
be  a  stronger  safeguard  to  you,  my  children.  I  have 
no  fear  for  your  physical  welfare;  you  are  healthy 
and  industrious;  but  your  character  is  only  half 
formed,  and  I  can  but  pray  God  that  my  past  teach- 
ings and  your  mother's  prayers  may  have  left  a  deep- 
er imprint  upon  your  hearts  than  temptation  can 
efface.  You,  William,  are  the  oldest  and  most  pru- 
dent, and  under  the  watchful  eye  of  Uncle  Hilgedorf 
will  have  little  opportunity  to  go  astray.  He  stands 
alone  in  the  world,  and  his  love  for  your  mother,  his 
only  sister,  will  assure  you  a  kindly  reception.  See 
that  you  do  your  duty  and  repay  with  gratitude  the 
old  man's  kindness.  Who  knows,  but  some  day  you 
may  have  the,  opportunity  to  take  charge  of  his  busi- 
ness, and  blessings  result  to  you  from  that  which  now 
seems  such  misfortune. 

"And  you,  Charles,  shall  finally  have  your  wish 
to  go  as  builder's  apprentice  to  Master  Arnold  at 
Munich.  You  would  have  had  an  easier  road  to  suc- 
cess had  I  been  able  to  instruct  you  a  few  years 
longer;  but  who  knows,  the  very  obstacles  you  en- 
counter and  the  laborious  road  you  must  travel,  may 
spur  you  to  greater  effort  to  reach  the  summit.  Let 
self-reliance,  with  trust  in  God,  be  your  watchword. 
You  know  I  have  often  told  you  that  the  oak  stand- 

6 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

ing  isolated  and  exposed  to  the  whole  force  of  the 
storms  grows  the  toughest  fibre. 

"Eda,  my  little  girl,"  and  the  voice  of  the  school- 
master broke,  while  huge  tears  rolled  down  his  fur- 
rowed cheeks,  "how  can  we  let  you  go !  And  yet 
how  grateful  we  must  be  to  the  kind  lady  who  offers 
you  so  good  a  home.  Yes,  go  to  her,  God  bless  her ! 
She  will  watch  over  you  like  a  mother,  although  your 
own  mother's  heart  will  nearly  break.  You  will  re- 
ceive a  good  education,  far  better  than  we  could  have 
given  you,  and  eventually  stand  elevated  to  a  social 
sphere  aibove  your  mother  and  me.  Keep  but  pure 
your  heart,  and  the  sorrow  of  this  separation  will 
blossom  into  joy  for  your  parents.  For  a  time  you 
can  come  to  see  us  often ;  after  that — well,  we  will 
not  meet  further  trouble  until  it  comes  to  us. 

"Phillip  and  Fritzie  we  must  keep ;  and  with  a  lit- 
tle closer  economy  we  will  not  starve,  although  we 
may  sometimes  go  hungry." 

This  was  but  a  typical  scene  of  thousands  of  others 
occurring  in  the  old  Fatherland  in  those  times.  Dire 
necessity  severed  the  warmest  family  ties,  and  scat- 
tered its  members  in  search  of  subsistence.  Thou- 
sands came  to  America,  and  finding  here  welcome  and 
plenty,  made  it  their  home. 

The  separation  in  the  Bertram  family  followed 
very  shortly  after  the  meeting  above  referred  to. 
William  went  to  his  Uncle  Hilgedorf  in  Dresden, 
who,  as  the  only  other  child  of  Barbara's  father,  haid 
become  his  successor  in  the  book  business.  Charles 
went  as  apprentice  to  Master  Arnold  in  Munich,  and 
Fda  was  taken  into  the  home  of  Mrs.  Baldwin,  the 


PLUCK 

wife  of  U.  S.  consul  Richard  Baldwin,  then  stationed 
at  Hof.  Mrs.  Baldwin  was  of  German  descent,  in 
fact,  her  parents  had  been  born  in  that  very  village. 
One  day  while  searching  out  their  native  hearth, 
she  met  little  Eda  and  was  charmed  by  the  sweet, 
earnest  face  and  sensible  answers  of  the  child.  Hav- 
ing no  children  of  her  own,  and  hearing  of  the  Ber- 
trams' trouble,  she  concluded  to  offer  the  little  one 
a  home  and  opportunity  for  education.  This  left  the 
schoolmaster's  family  reduced  to  himself  and  wife, 
the  little  ten-year-old  Phillip  and  five-year-old 
"Fritzie." 

The  summer  came  and  passed,  and  the  following 
winter  brought  added  distress  to  mainy  families. 
Adam  Bertram  toiled  and  starved  himself  in  order 
that  his  wife  and  the  little  ones  might  not  suffer  too 
much.  After  his  daily  labors  in  school  were  con- 
cluded, he  would  often  work  into  the  still  hours  of 
the  night  at  some  drafting  or  copying  he  had  secured 
from  the  neighboring  town,  while  his  eyes  ached  for 
want  of  proper  light  and  his  fingers  grew  stiff  with 
the  cold.  He  looked  thin  and  careworn,  but  the  com- 
pressed lips  showed  that  his  spirit  did  not  flinch. 

Thus  the  winter  slowly  passed,  and  with  the  dawn 
of  spring  new  courage  awoke.  Many  determined  to 
exhaust  their  last  means  to  purchase  a  passage  to 
America,  whence  most  cheerful  news  reached  them 
from  those  who  had  gone  before.  Among  others,  a 
neighbor  with  his  family  were  going,  and  the  sons 
were  daily  exciting  their  comrades  by  glowing  de- 
scriptions of  this  land  of  promise  which  they  had 
never  seen,  but  which  their  imagination,  aided  by 

8 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

letters  from  friends,  caused  them  to  believe  to  be 
like  unto  the  "promised  land."  The  long  trip  on  the 
sailing  boats  and  the  fear  of  the  great,  unknown 
ocean  caused  many  to  hesitaite ;  but  the  dread  of  mil- 
itary service,  to  which  they  were  liable  to  be  called, 
in  a  measure  offset  this ;  and,  added  to  it  all,  was  the 
spice  of  secretly  evading  the  authorities — because 
military  law  would  not  permit  the  emigration  of 
able-bodied  youths  after  they  had  passed  their 
fifteenth  year. 

Little  Phillip  listened  eagerly  to  the  older  boys 
and  men,  and  the  pictures  of  the  new  world  had  an 
enchanting  attraction  for  him.  He  knew  that  his 
father  was  hardly  able  to  support  him,  because,  al- 
though he  had  himself  suffered  little  want,  he  had 
often  seen  his  mother  weep,  and  once  in  reply  to  his 
sympathetic  question  she  had  answered  between  her 
sobs :  "Oh,  Phillip !  father  is  working  and  starving 
himself  to  death!"  Since  then  he  had  eaten  less, 
claiming  he  was  not  hungry,  and  had  found  he  could 
really  get  on  very  well  with  much  less  than  he  was 
formerly  wont  to. 

But  his  father's  and  mother's  looks  still  worried 
him  and  he  thought  that  with  one  less  to  feed  they 
might  have  more  to  eat  themselves.  Phillip  was  a 
bright,  sturdy  little  fellow,  and,  while  never  quar- 
relsome himself,  was  looked  up  to  by  his  little  school- 
mates as  the  quickest  and  strongest  boy  of  his  age 
in  the  village.  Many  a  time  had  boyish  injustice  or 
cruelty  in  another  brought  a  flash  to  his  blue-gray 
eyes  and  caused  a  quick  blow  of  a  solid  little  fist  to 
emphasize  his  disapproval. 

9 


PLUCK 

Then,  too,  he  had  often  heard  from  his  mother  the 
adventures  and  hardship  through  which  his  father 
had  passed  when  but  a  boy,  and  the  fact  that  at  that 
time  his  father  was  a  few  years  older  than  he  him- 
self now  was  did  not  dampen  his  courage.  Fear  he 
had  never  known;  not  even  when  the  angry  eye  of 
that  father  rested  upon  him  for  some  boyish  prank 
and  he  knew  to  a  certainty  that  the  strap  would  meet 
him  in  the  evening.  He  had  always  taken  his  pun- 
ishment with  far  less  emotion  than  words  of  praise. 

What  wonder  then  that  the  little  fellow,  one  even- 
ing, after  hearing  the  plans  of  the  others  all  arranged, 
rushed  into  the  house  and  startled  his  parents  with 
the  statement :  "I'm  going  to  America !"  His  mother 
looked  up  in  alarm,  but  the  father  only  smiled  and 
answered:  "Well,  Phillip,  you  can  go  after  supper, 
but  be  sure  to  be  back  by  bed-time."  Phillip  was  not, 
however,  to  be  so  lightly  put  off.  He  was  in  dead 
earnest,  and  sturdily  repeated  his  statement.  Herr 
Bertram  then  thought  best  to  treat  the  boy  with  more 
seriousness.  "My  son,"  said  he,  "do  you  know  where 
America  is?" 

"Yes,  father,"  was  the  quick  response,  "it  is  on 
the  other  side  of  the  big  water." 

"And  have  you  any  idea  how  big  this  water  is? 
Let  me  show  you,"  and  he  reached  for  an  old  atlas 
that  had  seen  many  years'  service  in  his  school. 
"Look,  here  is  a  map  of  the  world;  here  is  Ba,varia; 
right  here  on  this  spot  is  where  we  live;  here  is 
Munich,  which  looks  as  though  you  could  reach  it 
with  one  step,  and  yet  you  know  how  many  days  we 
had  to  walk  to  get  there  when  you  and  I  visited  your 

10 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

brother  last  fall.  You  have  heard  of  Berlin  and 
Paris,  and  how  f ar  away  they  are  from  us ;  but,  look, 
here  on  the  map  they  seem  close  by.  And  England, 
which  you  know  is  still  farther  away,  and  that,  to 
reach  it,  one  must  cross  a  part  of  the  big  water;  see 
how  close  to  us  that  looks  on  the  map.  And  the  holy 
land  even,  where  our  Saviour  lived,  does  not  seem  so 
far  away  when  you  look  at  this  map.  But  America ! 
See  this  body  of  water,  bigger  than  all  Europe,  lies 
between  it  and  us.  Why,  roll  this  map  to  make  it 
round  like  the  world,  thus,  and  you  will  see  that 
America  is  on  the  opposite  side.  This  greait  ocean 
one  must  cross  in  a  ship  which  the  storms  will  toss 
like  an  egg  shell,  and  often  those  that  set  out  upon  it 
are  engulfed  with  the  ship,  and  never  heard  from 
again.  Drive  the  thought  from  your  mind,  my  son, 
until  you  are  older  and  better  able  to  face  dangers." 

Phillip  had  eagerly  followed  his  father's  explana,- 
tiou  of  the  map,  which,  for  the  first  time,  became  a 
representation  of  living  realities  to  him;  and  that 
evening  he  studied  it  as  never  before.  But  not  for  a 
moment  did  its  vast  distances  disturb  him.  Others 
had  crossed  the  great  ocean  in  safety,  and  their  let- 
ters kept  coming  safely  back;  why  could  not  he  do 
the  same? 

The  next  morning  he  again  went  to  his  father  with 
the  request  to  let  him  go.  The  latter  began  to  realize 
that  the  boy  was  in  eiarnest,  and  sternly  told  him  to 
think  no  more  about  it,  because  he  would  never  con- 
sent. He  knew  the  persistence  of  the  little  fellow, 
and  thought  best  to  crush  the  desire  at  once. 

11 


PLUCK 

But  that  evening  Phillip  began  anew  and  begged 
that  they  should  let  him  go  with  the  neighbors  who 
were  to  start  in  two  weeks — while  his  mother  wept 
and  the  father  observed  him  in  stern  silence.  Every 
boyish  argument  that  his  imagination  suggested  in 
support  of  his  safety  and  future  success  be  brought 
to  bear,  and  finally,  weeping,  poured  forth  his  grief 
at  the  suffering  of  his  mother  and  father  in  order 
that  he  and  his  little  brother  might  have  enough  to 
eat.  The  sternness  faded  from  the  father's  looks,  as 
he  impulsively  clasped  his  son  to  his  breast,  and  for 
a  moment  all  three  silently  wept. 

"It  eanot  be,  my  child,"  he  finally  said,  "it  would 
break  your  mother's  heart  to  let  you  go  from  her 
with  so  little  chance  ,of  seeing  you  again  in  this 
world.  And  how  could  I  ever  again  rest  with  easy 
conscience  if  I  permitted  a  child,  which  God  has 
given  me  to  guide  to  maturity,  to  go  out  penniless 
into  an  unknown  world  with  its  dangers,  its  suffer- 
ings and  tempations.  !No,  no!  It  cannot  be;  give 
up  the  thought,  my  son.  We  have  at  least  enough 
to  live  and  in  time  a  change  for  the  better  may  come." 

"Father,  fear  not  for  me.  Have  you  not  often  told 
me  'Gott  verlaesst  die  Seinen  nie !'  And  I  know  He 
will  care  for  me  if  I  go  with  your  and  mother's  bless- 
ings. Oh,  consent,  dear  parents,  and,  although  we 
will  miss  each  other  much,  the  day  will  come  when 
you  will  bless  the  hour  you  let  me  go."  The  tears 
had  not  ceased  to  flow,  but  his  voice  had  in  it  a 
prophetic  ring  and  irresistible  pleading. 

"Go  to  bed  now,  my  Phillip,  and  leave  me  alone 
with  your  mother,"  was  his  father's  only  response. 

12 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

Obediently  the  boy  left  them.  His  heart  was 
heavy,  and  long  he  lay  awake  listening  to  the  sub- 
dued sound  of  the  voices  of  his  parents  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room.  Fritz  had  gone  to  bed,  and  father  and 
mother  were  alone.  Sometimes  he  could  hear  his 
mother  sobbing,  and  again  his  father's  deep  voice  in 
tones  of  encouragement.  At  last  he  heard  a  heavy 
step  in  his  parents7  bed  room  and  knew  they  were 
retiring.  A  moment  later  he  heard  the  door  of  his 
own  room  softly  open  and  his  mother  gliding  up  to 
his  bed,  sink  down,  upon  her  knees,  weeping  bitterly. 

"Mother,"  he  whispered. 

"My  son,  my  son,  how  can  I  bear  it!  You  have 
won  over  your  father  to  believe  it  best  for  you  to  go 
and  that  he  can  trust  you.  I,  too,  trust  my  little  boy, 
and  know  God  will  protect  him  wherever  he  may  be. 
But,  oh !  It  breaks  my  heart  to  part  with  you,  per- 
haps never  to  see  you  again !" 

Almost  was  he  won  from  his  purpose,  though  he 
now  knew  his  father  no  longer  opposed.  And  often 
he  was  tempted  to  cry  out:  "Don't  weep,  mother, 
dear,  I  will  not  go."  But  an  unknown  influence 
seemed  to  seal  his  lips  and  cause  him  to  bear  his  own 
grief  as  a  necessity. 

Long  mother  and  child  wept,  clasped  in  each  oth- 
er's arms.  Finally  she  kissed  him  again  and  bade 
him  go  to  sleep,  while  she  returned  to  her  husband. 

In  the  morning  Phillip  awoke  late  and  found  his 
parents  and  little  brother  sitting  at  their  breakfast. 
It  was  not  much — "coffee,"  made  of  browned  rye  and 
maize,  and  "black-bread,"  composed  the  fare.  He 
greeted  his  father  and  brother  and  kissed  his  mother. 

13 


PLUCK 

Her  eyes  were  swollen  aiid  she  looked  as  though  lit- 
tle slumber  had  visited  her  pillow.  He  said  grace 
silently,  as  he  had  been  taught,  when  late  at  table, 
and  started  at  his  frugal  meal. 

After  a  short  time,  his  father,  who  had  quietly  con- 
tinued his  meal,  said :  "Phillip,  if  we  consent  to  let 
you  go,  how  do  you  expect  to  get  the  means  to  carry 
out  your  purpose  ?" 

The  memory  of  the  midnight  visit  of  his  mother, 
and  emotions  of  grief  were  still  strong  within  him, 
and  he  answered  timidly,  "Father,  if  you  will  let  me 
go  to  Mr.  Baldwin,  I  know  he  can  help  me,  and  Win- 
ters will  take  care  of  me  on  the  way  if  I  need  it." 

Mr.  Bertram's  eyes  brightened.  He  had  not 
thought  of  Mr.  Baldwin.  He  knew,  of  course,  that 
Winters,  who  were  soon  to  start,  would  do  all  they 
could  to  help  his  son  and  care  for  him  on  the  trip ; 
but  Mr.  Baldwin,  whose  home  was  in  America,  could 
do  much  to  help  him  after  he  got  there.  It  gave  him 
more  confidence,  too,  in  the  sagacity  of  Phillip,  and 
he  readily  gave  the  requested  permission.  "Kemem- 
ber,  however,  I  do  not  yet  consent  to  your  going  to 
America.  Go  to  Mr.  Baldwin,  go  alone — it  mil  be 
good  experience  for  you — and  we  will  determine 
when  we  hear  the  result  of  your  visit." 

There  was  no  time  to  be  lost  Winters  were  to 
start  in  two  weeks,  and  Hof  was  at  least  a  three  days' 
tramp  distant.  One  day  Phillip  would  rest  there, 
and  it  would  take  him  three  more  days  to  return. 
Mother  Bertram  tied  a  small  loaf  of  bread  in  a  blue 
cotton  handkerchief,  while  his  father  gave  him  direc- 
tions a»  to  the  route;  and,  as  soon  as  breakfast  was 

14 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

finished,  he  started  on  his  long  tramp.  Neither  par- 
ent feared  that  harm  could  come  to  the  boy  on  the 
way,  or  that  he  would  suffer  want.  Though  poverty 
prevailed  throughout  the  land,  the  weary  traveler 
was  never  refused  sustenance  or  a  place  to  rest. 
Warm  hospitality,  which  no  degree  of  poverty  could 
chill,  was  one  of  the  ruling  traits  in  the  character  of 
these  people. 

Steadily  Phillip  trudged  along,  carrying  his  little 
bundle  in  one  hand  and  a  stout  staff  in  the  other.  At 
night  he  obtained  shelter  and  a  warm  bed  from  some 
kind  heart  in  whatever  village  he  would  happen  to 
be,  and  when  in  reply  to  the  many  questions  that 
were  put  to  him,  he  would  tell  them  of  his  errand, 
fthe  pluck  of  the  boy  made  many  a  mother's  heart 
throb  with  emotion,  and  her  sympathy  speed  him  on, 
well  laden  with  food  for  the  day. 

Thus  he  arrived  at  Hof  on  the  evening  of  the  third 
day,  and  though  weary  and  foot-sore,  he  had  nearly 
all  of  his  little  loaf  of  bread  left.  He  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  finding  the  home  of  Mr.  Baldwin  and  was 
received  with  warm  welcome.  Eda  shed  tears  of  joy, 
and  Mrs.  BaldAvin  gave  him  a  cup  of  genuine  coffee 
and  a  good  supper. 

During  supper  he  told  the  reason  of  his  coming, 
and  great  was  the  astonishment  of  the  consul  and  his 
good  wife !  That  was  a  case  of  American  pluck !  "Yes, 
sir,  you  are  the  boy  for  America.  Such  timber  we 
want.  Such  spirit  is  building  America  and  making 
it  great  I'll  help  you,  my  boy,  with  all  my  heart." 
And  the  jovial  face  of  Uncle  Sam's  representative 
fairly  beamed  with  pleasmre. 

15 


PLUCK 

"Now  have  your  visit  out  with  your  sister,  and 
to-morrow  I'll  take  you  to  iny  office  and  we'll  arrange 
the  whole  business.  I'm  going  out  for  a  while,  and 
maybe  I  can  interest  someone  else  who  can  do  even 
more  for  you  than  I." 

After  Mr.  Baldwin  had  left,  the  three  sat  amd 
talked  for  a  long  time.  Phillip  had  to  tell  his  sister 
all  about  home  and  his  parents  and  little  Fritzie; 
and,  when  he  told  of  the  careworn  looks  of  the  for- 
mer, she  could  not  restrain  her  tears.  Mrs.  Baldwin 
talked  much  of  America  and  endeavored  to  give  him 
such  insight  into  the  life  there  as  she  thought  he  could 
comprehend.  lie  listened  eagerly  and  stored  away 
many  useful  suggestions.  And  when  Mrs.  Baldwin 
informed  him  that  they  would  probably  return  to 
America  in  three  years  and  bring  Etda  with  them,  and 
that  with  the  consent  of  her  parents  they  expected  to 
adopt  her  as  their  own,  he  was  happy  enough  to  cry 
for  joy. 

That  night  he  slept  in  the  finest  and  softest  bed 
he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life.  He  awoke  late,  and  was 
surprised  that  he  was  not  too  late  for  breakfast  Ac- 
customed to  arise  at  the  break  of  day,  city  life  showed 
him  its  first  distinction.  Mr.  Baldwin  was  the  last 
to  appear,  a,nid  he  greeted  him  with  a  hearty,  "Good 
morning,  my  little  man;  up  bright  and  early,  I 
see;  well,  when  you  get  to  be  my  age  you'll  think 
more  of  comfort  and  less  of  sunrise;  good  morning, 
Katie,  I  missed  your  soft  arms,  or  I  might  have  slept 
longer.  And  Eda,  did  you  sleep  well,  are  you  glad  to 
see  your  brother  ?  Well,  you  see  now  you  have  got  to 
go  with  us  and  adopt  me  for  a  papa.  We  can't  let 

16 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

Phillip  die  of  homesickness,  or  get  into  mischief  in 
the  strange  world  to  which  he  is  going.  And  going 
he  is,  ain't  you,  Phillip?  I've  got  it  all  arranged. 
But  let's  have  breakfast  first,  then  I'll  show  you  the 
city  and  tell  you  all  about  it,"  and  with  a  happy  smile 
he  led  the  way  to  the  breakfast  table. 

During  breakfast  he  informed  his  wife  that  he 
intended  to  introduce  Phillip  to  Dr.  Lawrence,  who 
was  expected  to  return  that  day  from  Karlsbad, 
where  he  had  been  with,  his  wife.  If  it  should  so 
chance  that  the  doctor  would  take  the  same  boat  on 
his  return  trip  to  New  York  as  the  one  the  Winters 
were  going  to  take,  he  could  be  of  great  help  to 
Phillip.  Besides  this,  on  the  following  day  he  would 
hire  a  coach  and  take  Phillip  home,  as  he  wanted  to 
have  a  talk  with  Phillip's  father  and  mother.  He 
thought  he  could  overcome  their  last  scruples  and 
make  the  parting  less  hard.  He  saw  no  reason  why 
such  a  boy  should  not  succeed  in  making  his  way  in 
America ;  why,  there  were  hundreds  of  little  urchins 
swarming  in  the  streets  of  New  York  City,  who  were 
earning  a  living  and  often  helping  a  sick  parent.  All 
it  required  was  pluck,  and  of  that  Phillip  showed  he 
had  plenty. 

With  such  hopeful  words  he  spiced  the  meal,  and 
when  after  breakfast  he  took  Phillip  to  see  the  great 
sights  of  the  little  city,  and  rolled  off  an  endless  stock 
of  information  and  advice,  the  boy  Was  perfectly 
happy. 

They  did  not  see  Dr.  Lawrence;  but  a  letter  ar- 
rived that  his  party  had  engaged  passage  in  the 
"Salier,"  which  was  to  leave  Bremen  on  the  29th, 

17 


PLUCK 

and  that  he  would  come  to  say  good-bye  before  he 
sailed.  This  was  joyful  news,  because  it  was  the 
same  boat  Winters  were  to  take. 

During  the  day  Mr.  Baldwin  bought  the  lad  a  good 
suit  of  clothes  and  a  little  wooden  trunk.  He  said 
he  would  also  give  him  some  money  before  he  started, 
which  he  could  return  when  he  had  grown  rich !  This 
Phillip  readily  promised,  never  doubting,  with  the 
assurance  of  youth,  his  future  ability  to  do  so. 

After  another  happy  evening  with  the  family  and 
a  tearful  and  affectionate  farewell  from  his  sister 
and  Mrs.  Baldwin  in  the  morning,  Phillip  started 
with  his  new-found  friend  for  his  parents'  home. 
The  kindness  of  the  Baldwins,  what  he  had  seen  and 
heard,  the  trip  he  was  now  making,  were  like  a  reve- 
lation of  a  new  life  to  him.  Though  years  of  trials 
and  disappointments  followed,  in  which  he  met  many 
good  and  kind  people,  as  well  as  ill-disposed  ones, 
the  vision  of  a  better  human  existence  than  he  had 
heretofore  seen,  which  was  now  presented  to  his  view, 
did  much  to  form  his  ideal  and  nerve  him  to  accom- 
plishment. Many  times  in  after  years  his  heart  beat 
with  gratitude  at  the  recollection  of  that  kindly,  jolly 
face;  and  the  confidence  in  the  protecting  hand  of 
Providence  which  the  experience  of  these  few  days 
imperceptibly  inspired,  enabled  him  to  bravely  meet 
adversity  when  it  came. 

I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  visit  of  Mr.  Baldwin  at 
the  schoolmaster's  house,  nor  upon  the  preparations 
for  the  voyage,  nor  yet  upon  the  parting !  There  are 
moments  in  life  so  sacredly  sad  and  laden  with  grief, 
that  every  touch,  of  thought,  even,  seems  like  tearing 

18 


THAT  LITTLE  GERMAN  HOME  ACROSS  THE  SEA 

the  bandages  from  a  half-healed  wound.  Anguish 
may  open  the  fountain  of  tears  at  the  deathbed  of  a 
beloved  child,  yet  the  consoling  thought  of  its  re- 
moval from  the  cares,  dangers,  temptations,  and  sor- 
rows of  human  life  to  the  bosom  of  the  Heavenly 
Father,  casts  its  balm  into  the  wounded  heart.  But 
the  loving  parent  who  sends  his  little  child,  too  young 
to  be  safe,  yet  old  enough  to  be  tied  with  every  heart- 
string  to  his  own,  out  into  the  dangers  and  tempta- 
tions of  life,  without  an  earthly  guiding  hand,  and 
under  the  belief  never  to  meet  it  again  in  this  world 
— because  forsooth  it  is  its  only  chance  for  a  success- 
ful life — that  parent  is  a  hero  at  heart  and  has 
greater  faith  in  Providence  than  he  who  intrusts  to 
Him  his  dead. 

Let  it,  therefore,  suffice  to  briefly  relate  that  Mr. 
Baldwin's  visit  resulted  in  convincing  Phillip's  par- 
ents that  it  was  their  duty  to  the  boy,  while  the  op- 
portunity offered,  to  let  him  go ;  and  he  was  so  enthu- 
siastic and  spoke  so  encouragingly  of  the  future,  that 
they  were  almost  cheerful  while  he  remained.  He 
did  not  deem  it  wise  to  say  anything  about  his  inten- 
tions as  to  Eda  at  present;  but  Phillip  told  his 
mother.  While  this  added  to  her  sorrow,  it  was  still 
a  consolation  to  know  that  at  least  two  of  her  chil- 
dren would  be  near  each  other.  The  money  for  the 
trip  was  advanced  by  Mr.  Baldwin,  and  Phillip  was 
also  provided  with  letters  of  introduction  to  friends 
in  Detroit,  who  would  undoubtedly  assist  him  in  ob- 
taining employment  or  a  home. 

Whatever  a  mother's  love  could  suggest  and  their 
circumstances  permit  was  provided  for  him.  The 

19 


PLUCK 

linen  she  had  made  and  saved  up  for  years,  and  all 
that  might  be  useful  for  her  boy,  was  yielded  up. 
They  never  knew  how  they  loved  this  little  fellow 
until  now  when  he  was  going  away,  probably  never 
to  see  them  again !  And  when  the  awful  day  of  part- 
ing came ;  when  the  last  prayer  had  been  said  together 
on  bended  knees,  and  the  last  blessing  given,  and  kiss 
bestowed  upon  the  beloved  child,  how  dreary  and 
desolate  did  father  and  mother  fall  into  each  other's 
aa*ms  and  weep ! 

Let  us  drop  the  veil !  Phillip,  to  his  dying  day, 
saw  his  dear  old  parents  standing  in  that  sacred  door- 
way, where  he  had  known  much  childish  happiness, 
and  the  sight  of  their  grief  and  love  ever  steeled  him 
to  walk  the  path  of  rectitude. 

It  was  Tuesday,  March  17th,  1845,  when  Phillip 
looked  upon  his  little  village  for  the  last  time;  and 
many  eventful  years  should  pass  ere  he  would  see  it 
again.  How  sad  was  his  heart,  while  incessantly  the 
tears  coursed  down  his  cheeks.  But  the  thought  of 
abandoning  his  purpose  never  arose. 


20 


CHAPTER  II. 


ON  THE  OCEAN. 


T 


HE  three  Winter  boys  had  quietly  left  by 
different  routes  two  days  before,  and  un- 
less intercepted  by  the  military  author- 
ities, were  to  meet  the  rest  of  the  party 
at  Bremen.  The  trip  northward  to  the  sea-coast 
passed  without  incident.  A  part  of  the  way  was  trav- 
eled by  team,  and,  when  the  nearest  railway  was 
reached,  continued  by  rail  to  Bremen. 

Everything  was  new  and  interesting  to  our  young 
friend,  and  he  found  little  time  to  indulge  his  grief. 
When  he  saw  the  great  ships  at  the  wharves  and  the 
blue  and  seemingly  limitless  sea  beyond,  a  sense  of 
awe  at  the  vastness  of  the  world  and  the  daring  of 
men  took  possession  of  him.  He  was  not  afraid,  but 
he  began  to  realize  how  great  a  step  he  had  taken. 

John  and  Adam  Winter  had  already  arrived,  but 
they  had  no  news  of  their  brother  Joseph.  It  was 
time  to  go  on  board  ship  and  they  could  not  Wait  for 
hirau  He  was  the  oldest  and  had  his  passage  ticket 
for  the  voyage,  so  that,  if  he  succeeded  in  eluding 
capture,  he  could  follow  in  the  next  boat,  which  was 
to  leave  two  weeks  later.  This  was  a  common  exper- 
ience, and  the  officials  of  the  ship  company  promptly 

21 


PLUCK 
agreed  to  transfer  his  ticket  to  another  boat  when  he 

O 

arrived.  Even  if  caught^  Mr.  Winter  knew  that 
Joseph  would,  sooner  or  later,  succeed  in  escaping 
the  vigilance  of  the  authorities  and  would  follow. 

The  party,  therefore,  went  on  board,  whence  their 
luggage  had  already  been  transferred,  and  were 
shown  to  their  quarters  in  the  steerage.  There  they 
found  several  hundred  other  emigrants  busy  arrang- 
ing their  effects.  There,  too,  they  found  aai  odor 
such  as  their  nostrils  had  never  before  ventured  to 
communicate  to  their  stomachs!  Oily  smelling, 
mephitic,  impregnated  with  the  clinging  impurities 
left  by  thousands  who  had  preceded  them,  and  which 
no  amount  of  washing  could  entirely  eradicate — it 
was  an  atmosphere  very  much  tending,  well — to 
economy  of  diet  among  the  passengers. 

Phillip  hurried  back  to  the  deck  and  saw  the 
anchor  being  raised  and  the  sails  set  Soon  the  big 
ship  began  to  glide  smoothly  through  the  glittering 
water.  There  was  only  a  light  breeze  and  the  motion 
of  the  vessel  was  barely  perceptible.  The  passengers 
now  crowded  to  the  deck  to  take  a  long  last  look  at 
the  shores  of  the  Fatherland,  that  land  of  their  birth, 
of  the  happy  days  of  childhood  and  youth — their 
home  till  now  and  still  the  home  of  those  that  were 
dearest,  the  land  they  loved  and  ever  would  love, 
though  now  it  could  no  longer  nourish  them !  Many 
a  tear  attested  the  emotion  that  filled  their  hearts; 
and  when  one  sad,  powerful  voice  was  heard  start- 
ing that  magnificent  song  commencing: 

"Nun  ade  du  mein  lieb  Heimathland, 

Lieb  Heimathland,  ade !" 

22 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

it  was  taken  up  by  the  whole  crowd  of  assembled 
emigrants,  and  in  magnificent  volume  and  overpower- 
ing emotion  sung  to  the  finish,  only  to  be  repeated 
again  and  again  until  the  last  glimpse  of  land  had 
disappeared  below  the  horizon. 

Gradually  the  crowd  dispersed,  most  of  them  going 
below  to  complete  their  arrangements  for  the  night. 
The  sun  would  soon  set,  and  Phillip  stood  leaning 
against  the  rail  sad  at  heart.  He  was  thinking  of 
home;  he  realized  that  now  he  could  not  turn  back 
if  he  would,  and  the  release  from  the  resolution  which 
had  brought  him  thus  far,  left  him  weak  and  for  the 
first  time  afraid  of  the  future.  And  when  the  real- 
ization of  all  he  had  left  and  lost  came  over  him, 
what  wonder  that  he  wept  as  though  his  heart  would 
break.  He  was  after  all  but  a  child,  and  though 
strong,  intelligent  and  naturally  brave,  his  heart  was 
wrapped  up  in  the  mother  on  whose  loving  breast  his 
childish  sorrows  had  always  found  relief.  Others, 
too,  were  weeping,  and  when  Phillip  saw  them  scat- 
tered about,  singly  or  in  groups,  he  remembered  his 
mother's  parting  injunction,  always  to  pray  when  in 
trouble,  and  keep  it  up  until  he  felt  relief.  And 
then  he  silently  prayed,  while  the  tears  dried  on  his 
cheeks  and  he  felt  courage  returning  to  his  heart. 

He  had  been  thus  engaged  until  the  sun's  golden 
rim  touched  the  western  waters,  when  a  hand  was 
laid  gently  on  his  shoulder  and  a  kindly  voice  said 
to  him: 

"Is  this  Phillip  Bertram  f" 

The  boy  looked  up  and  saw  before  him  a  gentle- 
man of  medium  height,  about  thirty  years  of  age, 

23 


PLUCK 

with  a  rather  pale  and  studious-looking  face.  He 
wore  a  pair  of  gold  rimmed  spectacles  and  his  eyes 
and  mouth  had  that  gentle  expression  that  mirrors 
a  sympathetic  soul.  Somewhat  startled  that  this 
stranger  should  know  his  name,  he  slowly  answered : 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  thought  so  from  the  description  my  friend  gave 
me.  I  am  Doctor  Francis  Lawrence,  of  whom  Mr. 
Baldwin  told  you,  and  would  have  looked  for  you  be- 
fore had  I  not  been  detained  by  a  sick  passenger 
whom  I  chanced  to  meet  Come  down  below  now 
and  let  me  present  you  to  my  wife  and  little  daughter, 
My  wife  cannot  speak  German  very  well,  but  I  be- 
lieve you  will  get  along  together." 

He  smiled  with  his  closing  remark,  and  led  the 
way  to  the  saloon  of  the  cabin  passengers. 

Phillip  followed  and  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Law- 
rence. She  was  a  delicate  looking  woman,  and  the 
pallor  and  spirituality  of  her  countenance  was  only 
equalled  by  the  intensely  vivid  portrayal  of  a  lovely 
soul.  She  took  and  held  the  lad's  hands  while  she 
talked  in  fairly  good  German,  asking  him  about  his 
friends,  his  parents  and  his  former  life,  until  in  her 
motherly  way  she  had  coaxed  him  to  tell  her  his 
whole  past.  Dr.  Lawrence  listened  with  interest,  and 
little  Bessie  sat  silently  in  her  mother's  lap. 

Phillip  thought  he  had  never  seen  so  sweet  a  child. 
And  truly  she  was  a  little  da,rling !  Just  four  yea,rs 
old  the  previous  Tuesday;  a  little  body  perfect  in 
its  proportions;  eyes  round  and  blue  as  the  skies; 
lips  red  as  cherries  and  hair  like  gold  darkened  with 
copper  alloy ;  and  such  a  happy,  lovely  smile !  No, 

24 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

he  had  never  seen  a  child  so  beautiful.  Just  like  a 
little  fairy,  as  he  had  seen  them  pictured,  without 
that  vacant  doll-like  expression  the  fairy  pictures  al- 
ways hald. 

And  then,  this  part  of  the  ship  was  as  neat  and 
cleanly  and  almost  as  well  furnished  as  Mr.  Bald- 
win's house.  The  awful  smell  of  the  steerage  was 
not  there.  How  he  would  like  to  spend  a  part  of 
his  time  with  this  good  lady  and  the  sweet  little 
child ;  and  perhaps  he  could  learn  some  English  from 
her. 

Thus,  when  Dr.  Lawrence  asked  him  whether  he 
could  do  anything  to  make  him  more  comfortable  on 
the  trip,  his  quick  response  was  a  request  to  be  per- 
mitted to  visit  them  often,  which  was,  of  course,  read- 
ily granted. 

That  night,  when  Phillip  retired  to  his  berth, 
without  taking  any  supper — and  be  it  told  very  many 
had  no  appetite  that  evening — he  included  three  more 
in  his  prayers.  And  long  those  prayers  were!  All 
his  little  life  he  reviewed,  where  he  had  done  wrong 
and  had  been  forgiven,  where  he  had  been  in.  trouble 
and  had  been  helped  out,  until  his  heart  overflowed 
with  gratitude  and  he  prayed  that  no  matter  what 
trouble  might  come  to  him  that  he  be  permitted  to 
keep  his  faith  in  God's  love,  and  he  would  bear  all 
the  rest.  Finally,  with  prayer  still  in  his  heart,  the 
gentle  rocking  of  the  boat  put  him  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  a  violent  jamb  of  his  knees  against 
the  rear  of  his  berth  awoke  him,  only  to  find  a  new 
sensation  taking  possession.  He  felt  as  he  did  when 
he  and  other  boys  used  to  have  great  sport  jumping 

25 


PLUCK 

from  the  cross  beams  in  the  neighbor's  bam  down 
upon  the  hay,  or  as  he  felt  when  in  the  great  swing 
at  the  "Wiesenfest."  What  a  delightful  sensation 
to  be  thus  lifted  high  up  and  as  suddenly  let  down  to 
an  unknown  (depth,  only  to  be  again  unexpectedly 
lifted! 

He  jumped  out  of  his  berth  and  started  to  dress. 
In  a  moment  he  became  aware  of  sounds  of  distress 
in  every  direction.  Almost  all  were  still  in  their 
berths.  He  hastily  put  on  his  clothes  and,  somewhat 
dizzy,  sought  the  fresher  air  of  the  deck.  The  sight 
that  met  his  astonished  gaze  was  alarming,  but  grand. 
The  big  vessel  was  tossed  up  and  down  by  huge  waves, 
which,  as  they  came  along,  looked  as  though  they 
would  bury  it  out  of  sight.  But  it  would  always  rise 
to  the  top  only  to  be  let  down  into  a  deep  hollow, 
from  which  it  would  rise  again  the  next  moment. 

Phillip  saw  that  there  were  less  sails  set  than  on 
the  evening  before,  and,  suddenly,  he  was  startled  to 
see  sailers  away  up  on  the  mainmast  at  work  draw- 
ing in  sail.  He  had  no  idea  that  men  would  dare 
climb  up  there  in  such  wind  and  heavy  sea,  and  his 
face  flushed  to  see  such  courage.  He  heard  the  cap- 
tain giving  commands  and  watched  the  sailors'  quick 
responsive  acts.  Here  was  battle  with  uncontrollable 
elements,  fearlessly  fought,  in  the  face  of  constant 
danger  to  life.  For  a  while  he  observed  them ;  then 
feeling  refreshed  by  the  air,  he  carefully  worked  his 
way  to  the  first  cabin  saloon.  It  was  deserted,  and 
he  was  about  to  retire,  when  a  steward  approached 
and  informed  him  that  steerage  passengers  were  not 
permitted  to  come  in  there  without  invitation. 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

"But  he  has  a  standing  invitation,"  spoke  up  Dr. 
Lawrence,  who  just  then  came  out  of  his  stateroom 
and  overheard  the  steward's  remark.  "I  have  seen 
the  captain  and  this  young  man  is  to  be  permitted  to 
come  and  go  in  and  out  here  as  he  may  wish.  Good 
morning,  Phillip,  did  you  rest  well,  and  are  you  not 
seasick  ?" 

"Thank  you,  I  slept  very  well  and  am  not  sick,  al- 
though I  was  dizzy  when  I  first  got  up.  How  is 
Mrs.  Lawrence  and — Bessie  ?" 

"They  are  not  very  well  this  morning,"  said  Dr. 
Lawrence,  with  a  troubled  look.  "But  I  hope  it  is 
only  seasickness.  I  am  glad  you  are  not  seasick.  Do 
you  wish  to  go  in  to  see  them  ?" 

Phillip  answered  that  he  did,  and  the  doctor  led 
the  way  to  his  wife's  stateroom.  He  found!  Mrs. 
Lawrence  very  much  distressed  by  the  motion  of  the 
ship,  and  unable  to  arise.  Bessie  looked  pale,  but 
did  not  seem  sick.  Mrs.  Lawrence  greeted  Phillip 
kindly  and  complimented  him  on  his  seamanship. 

"The  first  requisite  of  a  good  sailor,"  she  said,  "is 
not  to  get  seasick." 

Phillip  was  full  of  sympathy  and  wished  to  wait 
on  them.  He  said  he  had  always  waited  on  his 
mother  when  she  was  sick.  He  offered  to  get  them 
something  to  eat,  whereupon  Mrs.  Lawrence  turned 
her  face  to  the  wall  and  groaned,  at  the  same  time 
motioning  him  to  retire  from  the  room.  The  doctor 
soon  followed  and  smilingly  enlightened  our  young 
friend  that  in  seasickness  the  last  thing  the  afflicted 
Wanted  to  hear  or  think  of  was  "something  to  eat." 
Phillip  had  not  the  benefit  of  personal  experience 

27 


PLUCK 

and  we  can  readily  forgive  his  mistake  on  account 
of  his  good  intentions. 

He  went  back  on  deck  with  the  doctor,  and  found 
that  the  storm  had  somewhat  increased.  Occasion- 
ally a  wave  would  splash  its  foam  onto  the  deck  and 
it  was  dangerous  and  difficult  to  move  about  They 
had  been  there  but  a  few  moments  when  the  steerage 
breakfast  bell  sounded.  Phillip's  appetite  had  been 
growing  ever  since  he  got  over  his  first  dizziness,  and, 
when  the  doctor  told  him  of  the  meaning  of  the  bell, 
he  excused  himself  and  started  forward. 

He  found  that  but  few  had  responded  to  the  call 
and  most  of  those  promptly  turned  back  when  the 
smell  of  the  victuals  greeted  them.  Not  so  Phillip ! 
He  had  not  eaten  supper  the  evening  before  and  the 
salt  air  seemed  to  give  him  a  ravenous  appetite.  The 
steward  was  his  friend  from  the  moment  he  saw 
him  eat! 

After  breakfast  he  hunted  up  his  friends,  the  Win- 
ters, but  found  them  all  prostrate,  without  particular 
wish  of  any  kind  for  him  to  gratify,  except  to  be  let 
alone  or — be  permitted  to  die.  He  left  them  and 
returned  to  Dr.  Lawrence's  stateroom.  The  wind 
was  still  increasing,  and  he  had  great  difficulty  to 
make  his  way  along  the  deck.  But  he  reached  there 
safely  and  entered,  after  the  feeble  response  of  "Gome 
in"  had  followed  his  knock. 

Mrs.  Lawrence  was  feeling  worse  and  was  glad 
to  have  him  come  and  keep  Bessie  company.  The 
child  was  still  pale  and  now  looked  ill,  but  gave  no 
sign  of  seasickness.  Dr.  Lawrence  had  been  called 
to  see  the  sick  passenger  he  had  met  the  day  before. 

28 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

All  that  day  Phillip  spent  with  Mrs.  Lawrence  and 
Bessie,  barely  taking  time  for  his  meals.  Their  com- 
panionship was  so  homelike  to  the  boy.  Dr.  Law- 
rence came  in  now  and  then  to  see  whether  he  could 
do  anything  for  them,  but  spent  most  of  the  day  with 
the  sick  passenger,  whose  symptoms  he  was  anxiously 
watching  with  Dr.  Reinhart,  the  ship's  physician. 

The  wind  had  shifted  and  steadily  increased  the 
farther  the  ship  advanced  into  the  North  Seai,  until 
now  it  was  blowing  a  gale  from  the  east  Enormous 
waves  were  chasing  each  other  and  tossed  the  ship 
from  crest  to  valley  as  though  it  were  a  feather.  A 
chilling  mist  and  flying  storm  clouds  completed  a  pic- 
ture of  as  wild  a  scene  as  man  ever  beheld.  Gulls 
were  flocking  by  the  hundreds  aibout  the  ship,  and 
now  and  then  resting  themselves  upon  the  spars  and 
rigging.  The  passengers  were  not  permitted  to  go 
on  deck  for  fear  of  being  washed  overboard  by  the 
waves,  which  continually  swept  it  with  vast  volumes 
of  water.  The  skylights  were  securely  covered  with 
heavy  oak  plank,  and  the  only  light  permitted  came 
from  little  metal  lamps,  burning  an  ill-smelling  lard 
oil,  which  were  here  and  there  securely  fastened  to 
walls  or  other  supports. 

The  night  that  followed  this  day  few  of  the  pas- 
sengers ever  forgot;  because,  although  it  was  par- 
alleled by  others  equally  terrible  during  their  long 
voyage,  it  was  their  first  experience,  and  fully  met 
the  predictions  so  often  made  by  those  whose  interest 
opposed  emigration,  and  who  had  endeavored  to  dis- 
suade them  from  it  by  working  on  their  fears. 

29 


PLUCK 

It  must  be  remembered  that  during  those  years 
their  government  used  every  means  in  its  power  to 
prevent  the  people  from  emigrating,  and  the  terrors 
of  the  sea  were  exaggerated  to  the  utmost  Local  pa- 
pers were  permitted  to  publish  only  disasters,  deaths 
and  misfortunes  occurring  on  the  trip  and  in  Amer- 
ica ;  and  it  was  only  the  private  letters  of  friends,  who 
had  preceded  them,  that  in  a  measure  counteracted 
this  influence.  But  dread  and  fear  remained ;  and  the 
emigrants  on  the  "Salier"  therefore  felt  their  courage 
deserting  in  the  face  of  such  vivid  corroboration  of 
predictions  of  evil.  Pitched  and  tossed  about,  death- 
ly sick,  confined  below,  with  only  the  dim  oil-light 
serving  rather  to  make  darkness  more  perceptible 
than  to  dispel  it,  they  were  a  prey  to  mortal  terror; 
and  loud  weeping  and  praying  took  the  place  of 
sleep. 

Phillip  remained  with  his  friends  until  Dr.  Law- 
rence returned  at  about  eleven  o'clock  that  night. 
He  had  been  taking  turns  with  the  ship's  physician 
in  watching  with  the  sick  passenger.  The  symptoms 
were  so  extraordinary  that  the  closest  observation 
was  necessary  to  determine  the  nature  of  the  disease 
so  as  to  discover  it  in  time  to  take  precautions 
if  necessary  for  the  safety  of  the  rest  of  the  pas- 
sengers. 

When  Phillip  reached  the  steerage  he  called  at 
the  berths  of  his  friends,  the  Winters,  and  found  them 
all  overcome  with  terror  except  Mrs.  Winter,  who, 
from  sheer  exhaustion,  had  fallen  asleep.  He  knew 
not  how  to  encourage  them,  nor  did  he  feel  very  cour- 
ageous himself.  The  weeping  and  wailing  in  the 

30 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

midst  of  sucli  violent  tossing  and  groaning  of  the  ship 
were  sufficient  to  make  many  manly  hearts  quail; 
and  Phillip  sought  his  bed,  or  properly  speaking, 
shelf,  and  wedging  himself  in  place  with  the  pillows 
to  keep  from  being  thrown  back  and  forth  with  each 
motion  of  the  ship,  forgot  his  surroundings  in  prayer, 
which,  as  usual,  eoided  in  sleep. 

In  the  morning  the  storm  had  not  decreased,  but 
neither  had  it  increased ;  and  the  dreadful  night  hav- 
ing safely  passed  and  daylight  come  again,  hope  re- 
vived. All  were  still  confined  below;  and  it  was 
three  days  later  before  the  storm  had  sufficiently 
abated  to  admit  of  passengers  coming  onto  the  deck. 

During  the  three  days  the  symptoms  of  the  sick 
passenger  left  no  further  doubt  that  he  was  afflicted 
with  that  disease  so  much  dreaded  on  ship-board, 
smallpox.  The  general  breaking  out  of  this  disease 
meant  not  only  danger  to  all  and  death  to  many,  but 
it  might  compel  the  survivors  after  reaching  America 
to  be  detained  in  quarantine  for  many  weeks.  The 
passengers  were  happily  in  ignorance  of  this  new 
danger,  until  the  worst  of  the  storm  had  passed,  or 
their  terror  would  have  known  no  bounds.  Every  pos- 
sible precaution  was  taken  to  prevent  the  spread  of 
the  disease.  So  far  as  could  be  done  the  sick  man 
was  isolated  from  the  rest,  and  a  guard,  stationed  at 
his  door,  who  kept  all  but  the  physicians  at  a  distance. 

Mrs.  Lawrence  remained  confined  to  her  berth  and 
Bessie  was  listless  and  feverish.  Phillip  was  their 
constant  attendant.  It  kept  his  mind  from  dwelling 
too  much  on  thoughts  of  home  and  helped  him  keep 
up  his  spirits.  There  was  little  inclination  for  con- 

31 


PLUCK 

versation,  and  for  hours  at  a  time  he  sat  beside  little 
Bessie's  berth,  gently  stroking  her  burning  hands  or 
bathing  her  feverish  brow  with  cool  water.  At  night 
Dr.  Lawrence  attended  to  them  and  Phillip  sought 
his  steerage  bunk. 

On  the  third  day  of  the  storm  Dr.  Lawrence  called 
him  aside  and  told  him  that  he  could  not  come  to  the 
cabin  department  any  more,  at  the  same  time  in- 
forming him  that  smallpox  had  broken  out  and  a 
strict  quarantine  would  be  maintained  between  them 
and  the  steerage  passengers.  He  also  ca,utioned  him 
to  say  nothing  about  it  to  the  emigrants. 

The  boy  was  startled,  but  instantly  begged  that  he 
might  be  permitted  to  come — little  Bessie  was  sick 
and  his  presense  always  seemed  to  soothe  her.  Be- 
sides, Mrs.  Lawrence  was  almost  helpless  with  sea- 
sickness, while  the  doctor's  services  would  be  much  re- 
quired by  the  passengers.  His  father  had  him  and 
all  the  family  vaccinated  the  year  before,  when  small- 
pox had  broken  out  in  their  village,  and  he  was  not 
in  the  least  afraid. 

Dr.  Lawrence  thought  for  a  moment,  then  told 
him  to  wait  there  until  he  had  seen  the  captain.  In 
a  snort  time  he  returned,  and,  to  Phillip's  joy,  in- 
formed him  that  the  captain  consented  that  he  might 
have  all  his  effects  transferred  to  the  cabin  depart- 
ment, and  might  occupy  the  vacant  berth  in  the  doc- 
tor's own  stateroom ;  but  that  thereafter  he  could  not 
again  visit  the  steerage  until  all  danger  of  the  spread 
of  the  disease  was  over.  This  the  captain  had  readily 
granted  without  extra  compensation  on  account  of  the 

32 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

assistance  the  doctor  was  rendering  the  ship's  phy- 
sician. 

Phillip  returned  to  the  steerage  after  his  effects, 
and  told  the  Winters  that  the  captain  had  given  him 
permission  to  remove  to  the  cabin  so  that  he  could 
more  readily  wait  on  the  little  sick  girl  of  Dr.  Law- 
rence; and  that  he  would  visit  them  again  as  soon  as 
he  could.  Their  condition  was  such  that  they  took 
little  interest  in  anything,  and  Phillip,  therefore, 
had  no  difficulty  in  concealing  from  them  the  true 
state  of  affairs. 

How  happy  he  felt  that  he  could  now  be  with  his 
sick  friends  by  day  and  night;  and  how  he  would  try 
to  repay  them  with  devoted  attentions !  And  the  op- 
portunity soon  came. 

For  a  week  there  was  no  evidence  of  the  spread  of 
the  disease,  and  hope  was  entertained  that  the  threat- 
ening calamity  would  be  avoided.  By  order  of  the 
captain  every  passenger  had  been  promptly  vaccina- 
ted ;  the  emigrants  simply  being  informed  that  it  was 
one  of  the  regulations  of  the  ship,  so  as  not  to  arouse 
their  apprehensions.  And  it  was  owing  to  these  wise 
precautions,  promptly  taken,  that  the  subsequent 
mortality  was  so  light  The  emigrants  or  steerage 
passengers,  though  surrounded  by  the  most  adverse 
conditions  of  ventilation  and  attendance,  really  suf- 
fered the  least  from  the  disease  when  it  reached  them, 
because  nearly  all  had  been  vaccinated  before  under 
the  compulsory  laws  of  their  country. 

During  these  first  ten  or  eleven  days  of  the  trip 
the  weather  had  repeatedly  changed.  After  the  three 
days'  storm,  commencing  on  the  early  morning  of  the 

33 


PLUCK 

second  day,  comparatively  fair  weather  followed,  al- 
though the  wind  still  kept  the  sea  in  sufficient  commo- 
tion to  confine  those  inclined  to  seasickness  to  their 
berths.  Many  of  the  passengers,  however,  availed 
themselves  of  the  privilege  of  again  visiting  the  deck 
and  seeking  amelioration  of  their  "gastronomic"  dis- 
turbances in  the  bracing  salt  air.  There  was  no  dif- 
ficulty in  keeping  the  emigrants  from  mingling  with 
the  cabin  passengers  without  arousing  inquiry  as  to 
its  cause,  because  even  under  ordinary  circumstances 
steerage  passengers  are  rarely  allowed  to  trespass  on 
that  part  of  the  deck  allotted  to  the  cabin  passengers. 

Our  young  friend  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all 
his  boyish  desire  for  observation  of  what  was  occur- 
ring about  the  ship,  so  assiduously  did  he  apply  him- 
self to  watching  his  little  charge.  Mrs.  Lawrence 
was  too  weak  to  arise  or  talk  much  and  often  would 
only  press  his  hand  in  silent  gratitude.  Once  she 
drew  his  face  down  to  hers  and  kissed  him,  while 
he,  in  his  unskilled  way,  attempted  to  allay  her  fears 
for  the  little  one. 

The  child's  symptoms  had  soon  convinced  her  ex- 
perienced father  that  her  fever  was  of  a  typho- 
raal.'irial  nature,  but  he  concealed  it  from  his  wife, 
while  he  exerted  every  effort  to  direct  its  course  to 
a  favorable  termination.  For  five  days  she  was  de- 
lirious, and  it  was  pathetic  to  see  her  little  self-con- 
stituted nurse  hold  her  hand  and  listening  to  her 
wandering  talk,  which  he  could  not  understand,  while 
the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes  and  his  mute  lips  were 
compressed  to  choke  down  the  great  lumps  that  arose 
in  his  throat;  or  to  see  the  anxiety  with  which  he 

34 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

watched  her  father,  to  read  hope  from  his  counte- 
nance if  he  could,  as  he  made  one  of  his  frequent  ex- 
aminations. Twice  a  day  when  the  weather  permitted 
the  doctor  ordered  him  on  deck  to  drink  in  the  in- 
vigorating air,  but  ho  always  returned  before  his 
time  was  up  only  to  be  softly  chided  by  the  good  doc- 
tor. 

On  the  fourteenth  day  after  leaving  Bremer 
Hafen,  Southampton  was  reached,  where  the  last 
mail  Was  taken  on  board,  and  their  own  letters  sent 
back  home.  Phillip  had  been  told  of  this  oppor- 
tunity and  had,  during  his  watches,  written  his  par- 
ents the  experiences  through  which  they  had  passed. 
He  dwelt  much  on  the  kindness  of  his  new  friends. 
Again  and  again  he  urged  his  parents  to  have  no  fear 
for  him ;  he  would  write  often  and  felt  confidence  in 
the  future.  He  wrote  much  about  little  Bessie,  but 
would  not  alarm  them  by  mentioning  that  there  was 
a  case  of  smallpox  on  board.  With  many  expressions 
of  love  he  closed,  again  urging  them  not  to  worry  even 
if  they  did  not  hear  from  him  for  several  months. 

What  joy  that  letter  created  when  it  reached  his 
home!  The  news  of  the  storm  which  swept  sea  and 
land  so  soon  after  the  vessel  sailed  had  already 
reached  them  and  left  them  overwhelmed  with  anx- 
iety. This  was  suddenly  removed,  their  darling  boy 
was  still  safe  and  among  kind  friends.  What  parent 
would  not  lift  his  heart  in  gratitude  to  God  for  such 

joy! 

The  stop  off  Southampton  was  very  brief,  and,  the 
wind  being  favorable,  the  last  sight  of  land  quickly 
disappeared. 

35 


PLUCK 

Phillip's  heart  had  been  gladdened  at  the  oppor- 
tunity of  sending  news  of  his  safety  to  his  parents; 
and  when  now  he  went  below  and  saw  the  happy  look 
on  the  father's  face  and  looked  at  Bessie  and  saw  that 
she  knew  him  and  softly  called  him  by  name, 
"Phillip,"  his  heart  was  full — he  wept  Dr.  Law- 
rence whispered  him  to  go  on  deck  for  a  while,  as 
Bessie  must  now  sleep  and  he  would  remain  with  her. 

Obediently  he  went,  and,  still  weeping,  sat  down 
on  a  bench  to  indulge  not  his  grief,  but  his  joy.  After 
a  little  he  heard  footsteps  approaching,  and  looking 
up  he  saw  the  captain  standing  before  him.  He  had 
been  spoken  to  by  the  captain  before  and  liked  him 
because  he  looked  so  great  and  powerful  and  fear- 
less. Erect  as  an  arrow,  with  a  face  like  bronze, 
except  where  it  was  covered  with  a  blonde,  curling 
beard,  heavy  eyebrows  at  times  half  covering  a  pair 
of  steely  blue  eyes,  he  looked  like  the  typical  Teuton 
from  the  northern  shore  that  he  was,  like  a  man  born 
to  command  and  do  battle  with  nature's  powerful 
forces. 

"Homesick  ?"  ho  inquired  in  a  not  unkindly  voice. 
"!N"o,  sir !     Oh,  no !"  Phillip  answered. 
"Well,  why  then  are  you  crying?"  he  questioned 
further. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Bessie  knows  us  again,  and 
I  am  so  happy !" 

The  captain  looked  at  him  and  then  recollected 
that  this  was  the  lad  who  had  so  untiringly  nursed 
Dr.  Lawrence's  little  child.  He  had  not  at  first  rec- 
ognized Phillip,  because  he  looked  thinner  and  paler. 

36 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

"Well,  sir,  you  are  a  brave  little  man.  You  have 
done  what  few  boys  of  your  age  would  think  of  do- 
ing. If  you  want  anything  on  this  trip  that  I  can 
give  you,  come  and  see  me." 

So  saying,  the  captain  left  him. 

Such  words  coming  from  such  a  man  might  well 
cause  boyish  heart  to  swell  with  pride ;  and  they  were 
not  wholly  without  that  effect  on  Phillip.  But  it  was 
more  the  thought  of  his  father,  than  self-conscious- 
ness, which  made  him  feel  it.  He  sat  there  for  half 
an  hour  longer ;  then  impatience  drove  him  below. 

He  found  Bessie  quietly  sleeping  and  father  and 
mother  conversing  in  low  tones.  When  Phillip  came 
up  to  them,  both  embraced  and  kissed  him.  The  doc- 
tor had  just  told  his  wife  for  the  first  time  the  danger 
through  which  their  little  Bessie  had  passed,  and  the 
mother's  heart,  aye,  and  father's,  too,  might  well  em- 
brace within  their  love  this  brave  little  fellow  who  had 
helped  so  much  to  save  their  darling  child. 

After  a  little  Dr.  Lawrence  requested  Phillip  to 
go  on  deck  again  until  supper  time,  as  he  had  been 
confined  so  much  and  needed  the  air,  assuring  him 
that  the  best  tha.t  could  be  done  for  Bessie  now  was 
to  let  her  sleep. 

For  several  hours  the  little  fellow  wandered  about, 
observing  the  arrangements  on  a  ship's  deck,  and 
making  some  acquaintances  among  the  passengers. 
Long  he  gazed  at  the  seia  and  endeavored  to  reckon  the 
speed  of  the  ship.  Then  again  he  watched  the  sailors 
busy  in  the  rigging.  Some  of  the  sails  seemed  to  re- 
quire frequent  changing  to  get  the  full  benefit  of  the 
breeze.  Finally  his  inquiring  mind  prompted  him 

37 


PLUCK 

to  ask  one  of  the  sailors  a  question,  whereupon  he  re- 
ceived a  short,  gruff  reply  that  he  "had  no  time  to 
satisfy  the  curiosity  of  boys."  One  of  the  passen- 
gers, however,  a  short,  elderly  gentleman,  by  the  name 
of  Gross,  who  overheard  the  remark,  kindly  answered. 

Mr.  Gross  was  an  importer  of  wines,  living  in 
Philadelphia,  who  had  crossed  the  ocean  several 
times  and  was  well  informed.  He  told  Phillip  they 
expected  to  reach  the  south  coast  of  Ireland  early 
next  day,  and  were  now  pressing  on  all  sail  possible 
to  take  advantage  of  the  favorable  winds  to  pass  the 
dangerous  cliffs  of  that  coast.  He  was  a  German  by 
birth,  and  his  rotund  figure  and  florid  face  confessed 
his  gracious  care  of  himself ;  while  his  mirthful  eyes 
told  of  great  good  nature.  He  had  emigrated  to 
America  more  than  twenty  years  ago,  and,  by  indus- 
try and  economy,  accumulated  sufficient  to  start  his 
present  successful  business. 

The  two  conversed  for  a  while,  each  asking  and  an- 
swering questions  in  turn.  The  old  gentleman  was 
evidently  interested  in  the  boy  and  impressed  him 
with  the  necessity  of  learning  to  speak  English. 
Phillip,  of  course,  was  eager  to  do  so  when  opportun- 
ity would  offer.  Mr.  Gross,  who  spoke  English  but 
in/differently  himself,  nevertheless  prided'  himself  on 
his  accomplishment,  and  told  Phillip  that  hereafter 
he  would  give  him  instructions  every  day ;  "und  you 
see,"  he  added  in  English,  "wen  we  get.  to  New  York 
you  can  shpeak  English  den."  He  translated  this  into 
German  for  Phillip  and  said  that  was  the  way  he 
would  learn  it  quickest. 

38 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

After  supper  Phillip  sat  at  Bessie's  bedside.  She 
looked  at  him  so  gratefully,  as  if  she  knew  how  he 
had  prayed  for  and  watched  over  her.  She  slept 
throughout  that  night  and  Phillip  himself  had  the 
first  night  of  complete  rest  since  she  was  taken  sick. 

In  the  morning  the  child  was  much  improved.  Her 
mother  also  was  recovering.  While  her  attack  was 
chiefly  seasickness,  the  enfeebled  condition  in  which 
her  previous  disease,  for  which  she  had  taken  the 
waters  at  Karlsbad,  had  left  her,  did  much  to  ag- 
gravate its  effect.  However,  the  continued  steady 
weather  of  the  last  few  days  permitted  at  least  a  par- 
tial recovery,  and  she  was  able  to  arise  and  enjoy  a 
few  brief  periods  on  the  deck. 

Dr.  Lawrence,  descending  from  the  bluest  blood 
of  old  Boston,  was  not  a  rich  man.  He  had  made 
his  way  from  a  condition  bordering  on  poverty  to  a 
position  that  brought  him  a  living  income  with 
promise  of  more  for  the  future.  His  wife  was  the 
daughter  of  a  deacon  of  the  church  he  used  to  attend 
while  working  his  way  through  college,  and  he  had 
married  her  soon  after  he  started  in  practice.  It  was 
uphill  work,  for  a  while,  to  make  a  living,  but  grad- 
ually his  ability  began  to  be  appreciated  by  the  pub- 
lic and  his  practice  enabled  him  to  live  well  and  lay 
up  a  penny  for  the  future.  Just  about  that  time  his 
wife  was  taken  sick,  and,  knowing  the  only  chance  for 
her  recovery,  he  sacrificed  his  practice  and  little  sav- 
ings to  give  her  the  benefits  of  the  waters  of  Karls- 
bad. Happily  the  experiment  was  at  least  a  partial 
success,  and,  when  his  savings  were  exhausted,  they 
were  able  to  return  to  their  home  to  start  anew. 

39 


PLUCK 

That  evening  Dr.  Lawrence  was  summoned  to  a 
hasty  consultation  with  Dr.  Reinhart.  Another  pas- 
senger showed  symptoms  of  the  dread  disease,  and  it 
did  not  take  long  to  determine  their  nature.  When 
Dr.  Lawrence  returned  to  his  cabin,  its  inmates  were 
asleep.  Before  they  awoke,  and  early  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  next  day,  he  was  summoned  to  another  case 
disclosing  the  same  symptoms.  On  his  return  he  in- 
formed his  wife  and  Phillip  of  the  situation.  He 
had  little  fear  for  either  of  them,  as  both  had  been 
successfully  vaccinated  and  would  at  most  have  the 
disease  but  lightly ;  but  Bessie  had  never  been,  having 
escaped  the  captain's  order  by  reason  of  her  severe 
illness.  However,  Dr.  Lawrence  was  hopeful  that 
the  previous  disease  had'  sufficiently  cleansed  her  sys- 
tem to  make  her  proof  against  this  new  malady. 
Nevertheless  he  vaccinated  her  at  once,  and  it  was 
fortunate  that  he  did,  because  it  subsequently  devel- 
oped that  the  virus  worked  excellently. 

Before  the  close  of  the  succeeding  day  seven  other 
cases  developed  among  the  cabin  passengers,  and  the 
following  day,  five  more.  It  was  no  longer  possible 
to  keep  knowledge  of  the  fact  from  the  emi- 
grants in  the  steerage.  Nurses  and  attendants  were 
needed,  and  Dr.  Reinhart,  under  directions  of  the 
captain,  went  to  the  steerage  and  frankly  told  them 
all  the  situation,  at  the  same  time  urging  them  not  to 
be  alarmed,  as  the  danger  to  life,  owing  to  the  pre- 
viously taken  precaution,  was  not  great.  He  asked 
for  volunteers  to  nurse  the  sick,  promising  liberal 
compensation.  Half  a  dozen  men,  mostly  young,  and 
three  women  promptly  offered  their  services.  It  was 

40 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

determined  that,  so  long  as  the  disease  did  not  spread 
to  the  steerage,  the  quarantine  limits  should  be  main^ 
tained,  and  the  volunteer  nurses  made  their  arrange- 
ments accordingly. 

At  first  there  were  but  few  severe  cases,  all  of 
whom  nevertheless  required  constant  attention.  It 
was,  however,  but  a  week  later,  when  practically  the 
whole  ship  was  infected.  The  disease  first  gave  evi- 
dence of  a  general  outbreak  on  a  Sunday  morning, 
and  on  Friday  evening  of  the  same  week  the  first 
victim  was  buried  in  the  sea.  Only  two  others  fol- 
lowed. All  the  rest  eventually  recovered. 

The  officers  of  the  ship  and  the  sailors  were  nearly 
all  immune,  and  as  many  of  the  latter  as  could  be 
spared  were  ordered  to  assist  as  nurses. 

Phillip  had  insisted  from  the  first  in  helping  wait 
on  the  sick,  and  the  captain  had,  at  his  request,  given 
him  a  berth  in  a  stateroom  occupied  by  an  infected 
passenger.  He  would  not  expose  his  friends  to  closer 
danger  than  that  which  already  surrounded  them. 
All  day  and  late  into  the  nights  he  moved  about  fear- 
lessly from  one  to  the  other,  doing  a  little  kindness 
here  and  there,  such  as  only  a  gentle  hand  and  kind 
heart  could  bestow,  and  when,  late  at  night,  he  sought 
his  pillow,  exhaustion  brought  him  sleep  often  before 
he  could  finish  his  prayers. 

He  could  now  visit  his  friends  in  the  steerage,  and 
many  a  dainty  morsel  he  brought  them  from  the  kind 
stewards  of  the  cabin,  to  cheer  them  in  their  con- 
valescence. 

The  fat  little  wine  merchant  grumbled  constantly 
to  the  doctor,  when  Phillip  could  not  be  with  him. 

41 


PLUCK 

"Send  me  dot  boy,  doctor ;  he  does  me  more  goot  tan 
all  your  medicines."  He  had  a  very  mild  attack,  but 
thought  he  would  certainly  die,  and  commissioned 
the  boy  with  all  manner  of  messages  and  errands,  un- 
til the  little  fellow's  head  throbbed  with  bewilder- 
ment and,  sometimes,  pain. 

It  was  a  horrible  experience,  though  it  might  have 
been  worsa  Only  three  succumbed  to  the  disease,  as 
already  stated,  while  the  others  gained  by  this  trial 
in  an  awakening  and  strengthening  of  brotherly  love 
and  charity  towards  distress  and  misfortune,  as  well 
as  in  a  purified  body. 

Finally  our  young  friend  also  had  to  pay  the  pen- 
alty of  such  reckless  exposure  to  danger;  but  the  at- 
tack was  so  light  that  had  it  not  been  for  his  general 
exhausted  condition,  he  might  not  even  have  been 
obliged  to  go  to  bed ;  as  it  was  he  did  not  take  to  his 
bed  until  after  the  eruptions  were  well  advanced,  and 
was  up  again  within  ten  days,  much  rested  withal, 
and  happy  to  find  that  no  new  cases  had  appeared 
since  his  prostration.  His  labors  with  the  sick  had 
endeared  him  to  many,  and  every  attention  and  pos- 
sible kindness  was  shown  him.  Mrs.  Lawrence  had 
insisted  on  nursing  him  in  person  much  of  the  time, 
as  Bessie  was  almost  well  and  would  always  will- 
ingly remain  alone  when  mamma  wanted  to  go  to  see 
her  "dear  Phillip." 

Thus,  after  a  lapse  of  little  more  than  four  weeks 
from  the  first  general  outbreak  of  the  disease,  it  had 
run  its  course  and  died  out  for  lack  of  further  nour- 
ishment 

42 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

They  had  now  been  seven  weeks  on  board  ship,  and 
had  experienced  many  kinds  of  weather.  After  leav- 
ing Southampton  they  had  fair  weather  for  nearly 
two  weeks;  then  showers  and  occasional  short  storms 
followed  each  other  for  a  while ;  and,  during  the  last 
week,  they  were  sailing  in  the  face  of  a  strong  head 
wind  which  made  progress  very  slow.  They  were 
but  little  more  than  half  way  across,  and  with  the 
most  favorable  winds  could  hardly  expect  to  reach 
New  York  in  less  than  three  weeks.  The  "Salier" 
was  a  stout  three-master,  but  clumsy,  and  not  built 
for  speed. 

With  the  exception  of  one  terrific  storm  which 
struck  them  off  the  coast  of  New  Foundland  and  car- 
ried them  far  out  of  their  course,  the  remainder  of 
the  trip  passed  without  noteworthy  incident.  The 
emigrants  and  other  passengers  were  now  all  ac- 
quainted with  each  other,  and  the  former  spent  days 
discussing  their  future  hopes  and  prospects.  Most 
of  them  had  friends  in  some  part  of  America  and 
were  going  direct  to  them,  while  others  who  had  none, 
arranged  to  join  one  or  the  other  of  their  shipmates. 
Whole  days  were  spent  singing  in  chorus  the  songs  of 
the  old  home,  and  even  the  storms  could  not  wholly 
repress  their  new  courage. 

Phillip,  after  his  recovery,  had  been  reinstated  in 
Dr.  Lawrence's  stateroom,  and  Mrs.  Lawrence  and 
Mr.  Gross  gave  him  daily  lessons  in  English.  The 
time  was,  however,  too  short  to  learn  more  than  a 
few  things  of  general  use. 

Dr.  Lawrence  was  to  return  to  Boston  to  endeavor 
to  regain  his  practice,  and,  if  unsuccessful,  intended 

43 


PLUCK 

to  try  some  western  state,  while  his  wife  and  child 
temporarily  remained  with  the  former's  widowed 
sister. 

Mr.  Gross,  who  had  taken  such  a  liking  to  Phillip, 
insisted  that  he  should  accompany  him  home.  He 
"wood  send  him  to  shcool  und  make  a  man  off  him," 
he  told  the  doctor.  Phillip  liked  this  proposition  bet- 
ter than  to  proceed  to  Mr.  Baldwin's  native  town, 
where,  at  best,  his  chances  were  uncertain,  even 
though  the  letters  of  recommendation  which  he  car- 
ried were  of  the  warmest  nature.  Thus  it  was  ar- 
ranged that  he  should  accompany  Mr.  Gross  to  Phil- 
adelphia. 

The  days  did  not,  after  all,  seem  to  drag  as  slowly 
as  might  be  believed ;  and,  when  the  parting  between 
these  new-found  friends  finally  came,  a  backward 
look  upon  the  voyage  made  it  seem  almost  short,  al- 
though it  had  lasted  eleven  weeks. 

One  day  the  captain,  whom  Phillip  now  often  vis- 
ited in  his  office,  said  to  him : 

"Phillip,  would  you  like  to  become  a  sailor  ?  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  will  do;  if  you  stay  with  me  I  will 
train  you  to  a  life  of  courage  and  daring  such  as  will 
develop  all  the  manhood  within  you.  I'll  take  you 
in  my  charge  and  make  you  a  leader  and  commandor 
of  men.  I  have  often  wished  for  a  son  like  you,  and 
if  you  do  your  duty  I  will  treat  you  as  my  son." 

Phillip  grasped  the  extended  hand,  hardly  able  to 
articulate  words  of  thanks  for  the  generous  and  un- 
expected offer.  Finally,  however,  he  found  voice  to 
say: 

44 


ON  THE  OCEAN 

"Sir,  I  thank  you.  Every  one  is  so  kind  to  nie, 
and  now  you,  too !" 

"My  father  and  mother  do  not  know  the  sea,  and 
only  fear  it.  It  would  make  their  sorrow  still  greater 
if  they  knew  me  constantly  exposed  to  its  dangers. 
For  their  sake  I  cannot,  although  I  am  indeed  grate- 
ful to  you." 

The  captain  said  no  more  on  the  subject;  but  he 
squeezed  the  little  fellow's  hand  in  his  bear-like  paw 
in  a  manner  that  fully  expressed  his  admiration. 
After  that  the  captain  gave  Phillip  particular  in- 
structions about  the  landing  in  New  York,  saw  to 
the  exchanging  of  his  money  by  the  purser,  and  in- 
structed him  as  to  its  value. 

One  day  some  of  the  passengers  presented  him 
with  a  leather  wallet  and  memorandum  book  as  a 
token  of  their  gratitude,  and  when  he  opened  it  he 
found  a  considerable  sum  of  money  therein.  He  ac- 
cepted it,  as  any  boy  would  under  the  circumstances, 
and  placed  in  it  the  rest  of  his  money  and  his  letters 
of  introduction.  In  the  memorandum  book  he  care- 
fully wrote  the  addresses  of  his  several  friends ;  and 
promised  each  to  write  them  from  time  to  tima  He 
also  wrote  to  his  parents  all  that  had  occurred  since 
his  last  letter,  and  told  them  that  its  receipt  would 
be  a  sure  proof  that  he  had  arrived  safely  in  New 
York,  as  that  would  be  the  first  place  reached  where 
he  could  mail  it. 

In  the  morning  of  the  second  day  of  June  it  was 
noised  about  the  ship  that  land  had  been  sighted  ;  and 
true  enough,  at  about  ten  o'clock  it  became  visible  to 
the  naked  eye.  A  tremendous  shout  arose.  Wildest 

45 


PLUCK 

of  all  were  those  of  the  passengers  who  were  Amer- 
icans either  by  birth  or  adoption.  The  Stars  and 
Stripes  were  run  up,  and  cheer  upon  cheer  greeted 
the  emblem  of  liberty.  It  was  evening,  however,  be- 
fore they  had  approached  close  enough  to  observe 
anything  but  dim  outlines. 

The  pilot  arrived  during  the  night,  and  in  the 
morning  all  passengers  were  informed  that  the  ship 
was  ordered  detained  in  quarantine  for  inspection 
and  disinfection.  It  wras  ten  days  later  before  they 
were  released  and  landed  at  Hoboken. 


CHAPTER  III. 


IN  DOT  CITY  WOT  DE  PEOBLES  CALL  NUW  YORK. 


THE  agents  of  the  various  railroad  and  trans- 
portation companies  were  at  hand  and 
promptly  took  charge  of  the  emigrants 
and  their  baggage.  There  was  noise  and 
confusion  in  plenty.  A  few  had  friends  to  re- 
ceive them,  but  the  greater  number  intended  to 
go  farther  west,  where  their  friends  or  rel- 
atives were  already  located.  Winters  started  for  Wis- 
consin and  settled  in  Milwaukee  county,  at  a  place 
which  is  now  one  of  its  most  prosperous  towns. 
Phillip  bade  them  farewell  and  promised  a  visit  on 
some  future  day.  Few  of  the  newcomers  had  any 
suspicion  of  the  vast  distances  that  would  separate 
them. 

The  parting  with  the  Lawrences  was  more  affect- 
ing. It  seemed  as  though  another  loving  family  was 
being  broken  up.  Little  Bessie  clung  to  Phillip  and 
did  not  want  to  let  him  go.  Over  and  over  again 
he  had  to  promise  to  come  on  a  visit  as  soon  as  he 
could,  and  keep  them  posted  of  his  whereabouts. 
Peter  Gross  cried  and  promised  everything  for  his 
young  charge,  and  the  captain  even  left  his  duties 
long  enough  to  bid  them  a  last  farewell. 

47 


PLUCK 

Mr.  Gross  had  his  baggage  and  Phillip's  little 
trunk  checked  direct  to  Philadelphia,  but,  having 
some  business  to  perform  before  he  left  for  home, 
which  would  take  him  several  days,  proceeded  up  the 
city  and  took  a  room  at  one  of  the  hotels. 

It  was  too  late  in  the  afternoon  to  do  anything  that 
day.  They,  therefore,  contented  themselves  with  a 
long  walk  up  Broadway,  after  supper.  The  city 
seemed  to  swim  in  a  sea  of  light,  and  to  be  endless. 
Wherever  they  went  or  looked  it  was  the  same.  A 
dense  throng  of  people  moving  rapidly;  show  win- 
dows brilliantly  illuminated,  displaying  things  new 
and  wonderful  to  Phillip's  sight;  all  manner  of 
vehicles  rushing  up  and  down  the  streets ;  and  such  a 
noise  of  mingled  sound  as  he  could  not  before  have 
imagined. 

After  their  return  to  the  hotel,  Phillip  was  unable 
to  sleep,  such  was  the  rushing  whirl  in  his  brain.  Mr. 
Gross,  however,  was  unaffected  and  soon  snored  glor- 
iously. At  length,  tired  nature  asserted  herself,  but 
confused  dreams  took  possession,  and  it  was  not  until 
toward  morning  that  the  lad's  sleep  became  sound 
and  refreshing.  It  was  ten  o'clock  when  he  awoke, 
and  Mr.  Gross  had  already  started  out  on  his  errands, 
leaving  a  note  for  Phillip  to  get  his  breakfast  and 
wait  for  him  until  he  returned  at  dinner  time. 

Hastily  dressing,  he  went  below  to  the  office.  There 
he  asked  one  of  the  uniformed  boys  where  he  could 
get  breakfast.  He  was  shown  to  a  large  dining  hall 
and  given  a  seat.  His  appearance  must  have  sug- 
gested his  nationality,  for,  after  a  little  while,  a  gen- 
tleman wearing  a  white  apron  approached  him  and 

48 


IN  DOT  CITY  WOT  DE  PEOBLES  CALL  NUW  YORK 

asked  in  German  for  his  order.  Phillip  said  he 
wanted  to  eat,  whereupon  the  gentleman  smiled  and 
started  away,  soon  to  return  with  a  splendid  break- 
fast. 

After  satisfying  his  healthy  appetite  Phillip  re- 
turned to  the  office  to  await  Mr.  Gross'  return.  He 
sat  there  looking  out  through  the  large  window  at 
the  busy  throng  in  the  streets  until  nearly  noon,  when 
he  heard  some  one  speaking  to  him  in  German.  He 
turned  and  saw  a  young  fellow  a  few  years  older  than 
himself,  well  dressed  and  smoking  a  cigar. 

As  Phillip  turned  to  see  who  spoke  to  him,  the 
stranger  addressed  him  again,  with  the  inquiry 
whether  he  had  not  just  come  from  Germany. 

Upon  receiving  an  affirmative  reply  he  asked  fur- 
ther where  his  father  was. 

Phillip  replied  that  his  parents  were  in  Germany ; 
and  by  adroit  questioning  the  fellow,  who  gave  his 
name  as  John  Krumm,  soon  elicited  much  of  the 
boy's  story  without  the  latter  knowing  it.  He  strolled 
up  after  a  little  to  look  at  the  register  and  saw  the 
entry,  "Peter  Gross  &  boy,  Philadelphia."  It  being 
the  only  entry  of  such  nature  he  concluded  that  this 
was  the  boy  and  that  he  was  in  Mr.  Gross'  charge. 

After  a  little  he  came  back  to  Phillip  and  asked, 
at  a  hazard,  "Are  you  waiting  for  Mr.  Gross  ?" 

Phillip  brightened  up  instantly  and  answered: 
"Yes,  sir,  do  you  know  him  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  very  well,"  Krumm  answered ;  "he  used 
to  stop  often  at  father's  hotel." 

49 


PLUCK 

"I  am  so  glad,"  said  Phillip.  "He  will  soon  be 
back,  as  it  is  nearly  noon  now,  and  he  left  \v  >rd  ho 
Avould  be  back  for  dinner." 

"But  they  don't  have  dinner  at  noon  here.  Their 
dinner  is  served  from  two  until  five,"  the  other  an- 
swered, smiling,  as  he  had  gained  the  information 
he  wanted.  "Besides,  I  met  Mr.  Gross  at  the  office 
of  Blannheim  &  Co.  a  little  while  ago,  and  he  told 
me  to  call  here  and  tell  you,  if  I  found  you,  that  he 
could  not  return  until  this  evening,  because  he  was 
unexpectedly  delayed." 

Phillip,  never  doubting  the  other's  truthfulness, 
was  disappointed,  because  he  had  hoped  to  accom- 
pany Mr.  Gross  in  the  afternoon  and  thus  see  more 
of  the  city. 

"If  you  want  to  look  about  the  city  for  a  while 
I'll  show  you  around,"  continued  Kraimm,  after  a 
pause.  "Mr.  Gross  knows  I  am  posted  and  trusts 
me." 

A  moment's  hesitation,  and  Phillip  accepted  the 
offer.  Before  starting  he  buttoned  up  his  coat  tight- 
ly, pressing  the  outside  of  the  pocket  to  see  that  his 
wallet  and  memorandum  book  were  still  there. 

The  other  watched  his  movements  and  a  quick 
sparkle  came  to  his  eye ;  but  when  Phillip  looked  up 
he  smiled  good-naturedly  and  remarked  that  it  was 
not  at  all  cold. 

They  started  out,  Krumm  keeping  up  a  constant 
stream  of  talk  and  leading  the  boy,  on  one  pretense 
or  another,  from  street  to  street.  He  showed  him 
many  noteworthy  things,  but  everything  Phillip  saw 

50 


IN  DOT  CITY  WOT  DE  PEOBLES  CALL  NUW  YORK 

was  new  and  strange  to  him,  and  it  was  easy  to  keep 
up  his  interest. 

Once  Kritmm  took  him  into  a  saloon,  where  he 
claimed  Mr.  Gross  often  visited  when  in  the  city, 
and  ordered  wine  for  both.  Phillip  drank  because  his 
early  education  was  not  opposed  to  stimulants  in 
moderation  for  grown  people,  and  he  felt  that  he 
must  now  learn  the  ways  of  men.  But  when  the  fiery 
fluid,  which  was  probably  some  cheap  concoction, 
made  him  glow  with  internal  heat,  he  firmly  refused 
a  second,  which  was  repeatedly  urged  upon  him. 

After  secretly  exchanging  a  few  whispered  words 
with  the  bartender,  and  then  loudly  saying  they 
would  return  and  requesting  that  if  Mr.  Gross  called 
he  should  wait  here  for  them,  Krumm  again  started 
out  with  Phillip. 

The  sights  were  so  new  and  novel  to  our  young 
friend  that  he  did  not  observe  the  flight  of  time  until 
he  suddenly  became  aware  that  the  street  lamps  were 
lit.  Then  he  immediately  asked  his  conductor  to  take 
him  back  to  the  hotel. 

"Oh,  there  is  no  hurry,"  Krumm  replied ;  "here  is 
my  father's  hotel.  See  that  sign,  'Deutsches  Gast- 
haus'  ?"  he  read,  pointing  to  a  large  sign  suspended 
across  the  walk.  "Come  in  and  rest  for  a  while,  then 
we'll  go  back." 

So  saying  he  led  the  way  and  Phillip  had  no 
choice  but  to  follow.  He  observed,  before  they  en- 
tered the  large  wooden  structure,  that  they  were  in  a 
rough-looking  part  of  the  city,  where  there  were  no 
nice,  large  show  windows,  and  fewer  people  on  the 
streets.  When  they  entered  the  office,  strong  tobacco 

51 


PLUCK 

odor  greeted  them,  and  sounds  of  revelry  were  heard 
through  the  doorway  of  an  adjoining  room. 

Kruinm  told  Phillip  to  sit  down  while  he  would  go 
to  find  his  father,  the  landlord. 

After  waiting  for  half  an  hour,  a  burly,  red-faced 
man  approached  and  asked  his  business. 

Phillip  replied  that  he  was  waiting  for  Mr. 
Krunim,  the  landlord's  son,  who  had  gone  to  find 
him. 

The  man  laughed  and  roughly  said,  "I  am  the 
landlord  and  my  name  is  Pfeffer.  I  don't  know  any 
man  by  the  name  of  Krunim.  What  do  you  want 
here?" 

Phillip  was  scared  at  his  manner,  but  told  him  that 
John  Krumm  brought  him  here;  that  he  had  taken 
him  out  to  see  the  city,  and  that  he  promised  to  take 
him  back  to  the  hotel  where  Mr.  Gross  stopped. 

The  landlord  reiterated  that  he  did  not  know  Mr. 
Krumm  or  Mr.  Gross,  and  asked  to  what  hotel  he 
wanted  to  go. 

Phillip  did  not  know  the  name  of  the  hotel ;  where- 
upon the  landlord  informed  him  that  he  could  stay 
there  for  the  night  if  he  had  money  to  pay.  It  was 
too  late  to  find  his  hotel  now,  as  it  was  nearly  dark, 
and  possibly  Krumm,  whoever  he  was,  would  conic 
back  in  the  morning  after  him. 

Reluctantly  Phillip  submitted  to  the  apparent 
necessity;  but  he  had  lost  all  desire  for  supper  and 
sat  all  evening,  lonely  and  desolate,  in  the  office,  until 
he  was  directed  to  go  to  bed  and  was  shown  to  a 
chilly  little  bedroom. 

52 


IN  DOT  CITY  WOT  DE  PEOBLES  CALL  NUW  YORK 

He  feared  that  Mr.  Gross  would  worry  about  him, 
and  was  beginning  to  doubt  the  good  faith  of  Krumm. 
Once  during  the  evening  he  thought  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  latter  conversing  -with  the  landlord  be- 
hind the  bar  in  the  next  room ;  but,  when  he  jumped 
up  to  run  to  see,  the  figure  disappeared  through  a  back 
door  before  he  could  see  the  face.  He  was  almost 
sure  it  was  Krumm,  but  the  landlord,  whom  he  ques- 
tioned, said  he  was  mistaken,  and  ordered  him  to 
return  to  the  office. 

Thus,  between  doubt  and  fear,  he  disrobed  and 
went  to  bed,  first  carefully  putting  his  wallet  under 
the  pillow,  as  he  had  been  told  to  do  when  in  a  strange 
place.  He  was  very  tired  from  the  long  tramp,  and, 
in  spite  of  a  growing  uneasiness  of  mind,  soon  fell 
into  the  sound  sleep  of  boyhood. 

His  sleep  was  so  deep  that,  when  he  awoke  in  the 
morning,  it  took  him  a  few  moments  to  collect  his 
thoughts  and  remember  the  occurrences  of  the  prev- 
ious day.  When  he  did,  he  speedily  dressed,  intend- 
ing to  start  out  alone  to  find  Mr.  Gross,  if  no  one 
would  help  him. 

There  was  a  pitcher  of  hard  water,  a  bowl  and  a 
coarse  towel  on  a  stand  at  one  end  of  the  room,  but 
no  comb.  Phillip  washed,  and  smoothed  his  hair  as 
best  he  could,  and  turned  to  go  down  stairs,  when  he 
remembered  his  wallet  and  memorandum  book.  He 
reached  under  the  pillow  and  did  not  find  it.  At 
first  he  thought  that  it  might  have  slipped  onto  the 
floor  or  lower  down  in  the  bed,  and  he  searched  every 
nook;  he  pulled  the  bed  clothes  off  one  by  one  and 

53 


PLUCK 

shook  them ;  then  he  felt  in  his  pockets,  thinking  per- 
haps he  had  absentmindedly  put  it  there. 

Finally  the  awful  fact  dawned  upon  him  that  he 
had  been  robbed.  All  his  money,  even  the  addresses 
of  his  friends,  were  gone.  The  conduct  of  Krumm, 
his  assumed  knowledge  of  Mr.  Gross'  movements,  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  been  led  to  this  den  and  the 
landlord's  assumed  ignorance,  all  appeared  in  a  new 
light  to  him.  Like  a  flash  the  suspicious  circum- 
stances passed  before  him,  and  he  knew  that  he  had 
been  the  dupe  of  scoundrels,  of  whom  he  had  heard; 
who  preyed  upon  the  ignorance  and  innocence  of  poor 
imigrants,  to  rob  them  of  the  little  which  they  had ; 
and  he  sank  down  upon  a  chair  and  wept. 

Suddenly  he  jumped  up  and  rushed  down  stairs. 
He  met  the  landlord  coming  into  the  office  from  an 
opposite  door,  while  Krumm  stood  leaning  against 
the  counter.  Passionate  anger  at  the  wrong  inflicted 
controlled  him,  and  he  demanded  his  money  and  wal- 
let. He  accused  the  two  or  robbing  him  and  threat- 
ened dire  punishment  through  Mr.  Gross  if  his  prop- 
erty was  not  restored. 

The  landlord  grabbed  the  boy  by  the  back  of  his 
coat  collar  and,  pretending  to  be  furious,  shook  him 
until  his  teeth  chattered.  "You  accuse  me  of  steal- 
ing, of  robbing,  you  little  cub;  you  want  to  beat  me 
out  of  your  board  and  lodging,  eh,  don't  you  ?  Oh,  I 
know  them  tricks.  I'll  fix  you !  John,  go  call  the 
policeman  Danter,  quick — he  is  over  at  Mike  Hoola- 
han's." 

So  saying,  he  continued  to  shake  our  little  friend 
and1  curse  him  by  turns  until  Krumm  returned  with 

54 


IN  DOT  CITY  WOT  DE  PEOBLES  CALL  NUW  YORK 

the  policeman,  whom  he  informed  in  English  that 
this  boy  had  swindled  him  out  of  his  board,  claiming 
to  have  money  to  pay  for  his  lodging  when  he  had 
none,  and  that  he  had  just  caught  him  sneaking  out 
of  the  house. 

Phillip  did  not  understand  the  charge  and  could 
make  no  defense  even  had  he  been  given  opportunity. 
The  policeman  took  him  roughly  by  the  arm  and 
marched  him  off  to  the  station,  where  he  was  ushered 
into  a  crowded  prison  to  await  his  trial  in  due  turn. 

When  released  from  the  hand  of  the  officer,  he 
sank  upon  a  rude  bench  running  along  the  stone  wall. 
He  was  faint  and  overcome  by  his  fast,  lasting  since 
yesterday  before  dinner,  as  well  as  by  the  varying 
emotions  to  which  he  had  been  subjected. 

Offenders  of  all  kinds  were  constantly  being 
ushered  into  the  prison  room.  Drunkards,  male  and 
female,  human  beings — true — but  votaries  of  every 
manner  of  vice ;  the  outcasts,  the  scum  of  the  city — 
were  gathered  in  as  usual  after  a  night  of  debauchery. 
Cursing  and  maudlin  attempts  at  speech  filled  the 
room  with  discordant  sound. 

After  a  short  time  several  prison  attendants  ap- 
peared, carrying  huge  buckets  and  tin  dishes.  Each 
prisoner  was  given  a  tin  plate  and  a  fairly  liberal  al- 
lowance of  boiled  potatoes  and  meat.  Phillip,  in  spite 
of  his  surroundings,  ate  the  whole  of  his  portion  and 
felt  considerably  better.  Good  drinking  water  was 
passed  around  to  such  as  wished  it,  and  in  other  re- 
spects also  the  prisoners  were  not  treated  inhumanely. 

A  fat  German  woman  of  middle  age,  who  had  been 
in  from  the  preceding  day  and  somewhat  recovered 

55 


PLUCK 

from  her  drunk,  began  to  talk  to  a  man,  evidently 
also  a  German,  in  the  only  language  which  Phillip 
understood.  They  were  discussing  their  chances  of  a 
speedy  trial.  Phillip  listened  for  a  time,  then 
plucked  up  courage  to  speak  to  them. 

He  asked  how  long  he  would  have  to  stay  there. 
They  laughed  and  asked  what  he  was  "in  for."  He 
told  them  he  did  not  know,  only  that  he  had  been 
robbed  and  the  landlord  had  then  accused  him  of  at- 
tempting to  beat  him  out  of  his  pay  for  the  night's 
lodging.  In  reply  to  further  questions  he  told  how 
it  all  had  happened. 

"Poor  boy,"  said  the  woman,  "you  will  get  your 
eye-teeth  cut  after  a  while.  You  are  not  the  first  fel- 
low that  met  such  a  reception  in  this  miserable  coun- 
try. Oh,  I  wish  I  was  back  to  Germany  again,"  She 
had  not  lost  every  grain  of  sympathy,  even  though  she 
had  drifted  into  the  paths  of  vice. 

They  could  give  no  information  as  to  how  long  he 
would  have  to  stay  there ;  all  that  he  learned  was  that 
probably  in  a  day  or  two  he  would  be  taken  before 
the  judge  and  given  a  trial.  The  woman  advised  him 
to  tell  the  judge  all  about  it  because  the  judge  had  a 
kind  heart,  although  he  was  very  strict ;  and  that  lie 
could  speak  through  an  interpreter. 

Phillip  was  disconsolate ;  he  thought  how  Mr. 
Gross  would  worry,  not  knowing  what  had  become  of 
him;  and  even  if  he  now  got  out,  how  could  he  find 
his  way  to  the  hotel — knowing  neither  its  name  nor 
location.  He  finally  thought  that  when  released  he 
would  inquire  his  way  back  to  Castle  Garden,  where 
he  might  find  some  information  as  to  Mi*.  Gross' 

56 


IN  DOT  CITY  WOT  DE  PEOBLES  CALL  NUW  YORK 

whereabouts,  or,  at  least,  could  try  to  follow  the 
course  they  had  taken  to  the  hotel  as  near  as  he  re- 
membered. This  eased  his  mind  somewhat,  but  the 
uncertainty  as  to  how  long  he  would  be  kept  in  prison 
and  as  to  whether  Mr.  Gross  would  still  be  at  the 
hotel  when  he  would  be  released,  kept  him  in  suffi- 
cient anxiety. 

In  conflicting  hope  and  fear  he  waited.  The  day 
passed,  and  a  second  and  a  third.  All  those  who  had 
been  there  when  he  came  had  been  called  up  for  trial 
and  discharged  or  transferred  to  a  different  prison, 
and  many  who  had  been  brought  in  later.  Still  no 
call  was  made  for  Phillip. 

On  the  fourth  day  the  German  woman  was  again 
brought  in,  with  her  face  cut  and  bleeding.  When 
she  saw  Phillip  she  exclaimed : 

"What,  here  yet  ?  Why  haven't  you  been  let  out  ? 
Oh,  this  miserable  country — there  is  no  liberty,  no 
justice  for  an  honest  person  here !  See  here,  when  I 
am  called  up  I'll  give  the  judge  a  piece  of  my  mind. 
To  keep  a  boy  like  you  here  so  long  without  a  trial. 
I'll  skin  the  policeman  who  brought  you  here  if  I  get 
my  hands  on  him !" 

And  she  was  nearly  as  good  as  her  word.  When 
she  was  called  up  on  the  following  day,  she  deluged 
the  court  and  officers  with  such  a  tirade  of  abuse  for 
keeping  a  little  boy  locked  up  in  that  infamous  den, 
as  she  called  it,  and  was  so  evidently  sincere  in  her 
conviction  of  a  great  wrong  having  been  done,  that 
the  judge  was  impressed  by  her  remarks,  and  instead 
of  increasing  her  sentence,  ordered  her  to  accompany 

57 


PLUCK 

an  officer  and  point  out  the  "boy  and  bring  him  into 
court. 

A  moment  later  Phillip  stood  before  the  judge, 
who,  when  he  found  he  could  not  understand  Eng- 
lish, questioned  him  through  an  interpreter.  Phillip 
answered  that  he  had  been  brought  there  five  days  be- 
fore by  an  officer,  and  the  woman  loudly  corroborated 
this,  and  would  have  started  another  volley  of  abuse 
had  she  not  been  ordered  to  be  silent. 

"What  officer  brought  this  prisoner  to  the  station  ?" 
the  judge  sternly  inquired,  looking  about  tho  court 
room  at  the  different  policemen  present. 

"I  did,  yer  Honor;  and  I  neglected  to  prefer  the 
charge." 

"Come  forward  and,  state  where  you  found  him, 
and  why  he  was  arrested  and  not  speedily  tried !" 

Danter  explained  that  Pfeffer,  who  runs  the  hotel 
and  saloon  on  Broom  street,  had  caught  him  jump- 
ing his  board  bill  and  handed  him  over.  He  had 
no  excuse  to  offer  for  violating  his  duty  as  an  officer 
of  the  court  in  not  promptly  preferring  the  charge,  so 
that  the  case  might  have  been  dealt  with  in  its  proper 
turn  three  or  four  days  before. 

The  Judge  questioned  the  prisoner  fully,  and 
Phillip  answered  truthfully  what  the  facts  were,  with 
such  evident  sincerity  that  the  judge  could  not  help 
but  believe  him.  The  expression  of  his  face  showed 
his  rising  anger  and  indignation,  and  when  he  had 
all  the  information  he  wanted  he  said,  in  decisive 
tones : 

"The  prisoner  is  discharged.  Officer  Danter,  you 
are  convicted  of  contempt  upon  your  own  admission 

58 


IN  DOT  CITY  WOT  DE  PEOBLES  CALL  NUW  YORK 

made  in  open  court,  and  sentenced  to  five  days'  im- 
prisonment and  three  months'  suspension  from  the 
service." 

"It  is  humiliating,"  he  added  sternly,  "when  courts 
of  justice  in  this  land  of  equal  rights  must  silently 
submit  to  the  denunciation  of  creatures  like  this  wo- 
man, because  she  is  justified  by  the  facts !  Out  upon 
such  officers  of  the  law  who  hold  their  duty  to  fel- 
low-man so  lightly  as  to  allow  their  misconduct,  or 
even  negligence,  to  bring  reproach  upon  the  admin- 
istration of  justice!" 

It  was  no  doubt  a  splendid  sentiment  which  the 
court  expressed,  and  came  from  an  honorable  heart. 
But  it  could  not  return  to  Phillip  the  lost  opportun- 
ities of  those  five  days. 

He  wandered  out  through  the  open  door,  when  in- 
formed of  his  release,  and  started  slowly  down  the 
street.  He  did  not  know  in  what  direction  he  was 
going,  nor  did  it  then  matter  to  him.  Disheartened 
and  utterly  depressed  by  the  bitter  injustice  he  had 
suffered,  he  wandered  along  in  an  almost  dazed  con- 
dition. 


59 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NEW  FRIENDS. 

HILLIP  had  not  gone  a  great  way  when 
he  became  aware  of  a  group  of  newsboys 
coming  out  of  a  large  building,  a  short 
distance  ahead  of  him,  with  bundles  of 
papers  under  their  arms. 

"Hello,  Dutchy !  Oh,  say,  fellows,  see  that 
greeny.  Don't  he  'carry  the  Fatherland  with  him 
though  ?"  said  one  mischievous  little  fellow,  pointing 
to  Phillip's  clothes. 

"Buy  a  paper  ?"  another  shouted,  shaking  one  close 
to  our  friend's  face;  "All  about  the  great  fire  on 
Baxter  street — million  dollar  hotel  destroyed — great 
loss  of  life — buy  a  paper  ?"  and  he  laughed  while  re- 
hearsing the  morning's  "battle  cry"  which  the  pub- 
lishers had  given  him. 

Several  others  started  to  tease  him  in  boyish  mis- 
chief, while  little  Phillip,  smarting  under  the  recep- 
tion he  had  thus  far  received  in  this  country,  and  un- 
able to  understand  the  harmless  nature  of  the  boys' 
attack,  looked  up  at  them  with  a  feeling  akin  to  hatred 
at  this  new  outrage.  Without  a  second  thought  he 
gave  the  fellows  nearest  him  such  a  vigorous  push  that 
they  flew  against  each  other,  scattering  their  papers 
on  the  walk,  while  he  jumped  at  a  somewhat  larger 

60 


'You  let  the  Kid  alone!'  " 


NEW  FRIENDS 

boy  who  stood  behind  the  others  observing  their  do- 
ings with  a  smile,  and  attacked  him  with  such  vio- 
lence that,  in  pure  defense  of  self,  the  other  gave 
back  a  blow  that  made  him  stagger  and  fall  to  the 
ground. 

Immediately  the  little  urchins,  whom  Phillip  had 
so  roughly  put  aside  as  to  make  them  drop  and  soil 
their  papers,  attempted  to  jump  onto  the  prostrate 
boy  to  get  even  with  him,  but  the  one  whom  he  had 
attacked  told  them,  "You  let  the  kid  alone,  he's  none 
o'  your  puddin'."  And  when  one  about  the  size  of 
little  Phillip,  attempted,  in  spite  of  this  command,  to 
get  revenge,  he  took  him  by  the  collar  and  flung  him 
back,  saying,  "You  know  me,  Jem  Mace — you  touch 
that  boy  and  you  settle  with  me,  you  sneak.  The  kid 
wouldn't  tackle  you  because  you  probably  looked  too 
small,  but  when  he's  down  you  want  to  jump  on  him." 
So  saying  he  got  down  on  his  knees  beside  the  still 
prostrate  figure  of  Phillip. 

"Say,  boys,  I'm  afraid  I  hurt  him.  That  undercut 
Pat  Flynn  showed  me  was  too  strong.  Help  me  git 
the  kid  up  to  the  old  woman's." 

Two  or  three  at  once  handed  their  bundles  to  their 
chums  and  assisted  in  carrying  the  boy  to  a  low 
shanty  in  the  next  alley,  where  an  old  woman  stood 
in  the  doorway,  and  in  a  shrill  voice  and  strong  Irish 
brogue  greeted  them  with : 

"An'  phat  divil  of  mischief  have  yez  bin  at  now, 
Jack  O'Donnell?  Ah,  sure,  it  is  some  divilment  of 
yours  that  has  laid  the  poor  bye  out,  an'  with  your 
fightin'  an'  fightin'  yez  will  soon  have  yer  poor  ould 
granina  in  the  grave,  same  as  your  f ayther  did !" 

61 


PLUCK 

"Oh,  quit  yer  whining  an'  git  out  of  the  way,"  said 
Jack.  His  language  was  rough,  but  his  voice  not  un- 
kind, and  in  a  few  moments  they  had  carried  their 
unconscious  burden  into  the  room  and  laid  him  on  a 
rough  couch. 

"Sammy,  you  stay  here  so  that  I  can  find  out 
where  he  lives  in  case  he  is  a  'Dutchy,'  as  he  looks  to 
be,  an'  the  rest  of  you  go  along  about  yer  business." 

So  saying,  he  proceeded  to  assist  the  old  lady  in 
restoring  Phillip  by  applying  cold  water  to  his  tem- 
ples. As  soon  as  the  latter  began  to  revive  he  was 
given  a  tablespoonful  of  whisky,  which  had  the  effect 
of  soon  bringing  him  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"How  do  you  feel,  now?"  asked  Jack,  and  on  re- 
ceiving no  reply  he, ordered  Sammy  to  ask  him  in 
German. 

Phillip,  when  the  question  was  put  in  language 
which  he  could  understand,  answered  that  he  felt 
dizzy,  and  wanted  to  know  where  he  was. 

"You  tell  him  that  I  didn't  want  to  knock  him 
down  nor  hit  him  so  hard,  but  I  had  to — he  jumped 
at  me  like  a  little  divil.  Tell  him  we  brought  him 
to  my  house  and  as  soon  as  he  feels  well  enough  he 
can  go  home ;  an'  ask  him  where  he  lives." 

This  was  duly  communicated  to  Phillip ;  but  to  the 
question  where  he  lived  he  made  no  answer;  he 
seemed  drowsy  and  wanted  to  sleep,  and  almost  be- 
fore his  request  was  repeated  to  Jack  to  fell  back- 
ward on  the  couch  and  was  sound  asleep. 

Whether  it  was  the  blow  he  had  received,  or  the 
whisky,  or  both,  Phillip  slept  a  long  time,  keeping 
Jack  in  great  dread  as  to  the  extent  of  the  injury 

62 


NEW  FRIENDS 

and  possible  result  to  him ;  while  his  old  grandmother, 
though  she  knew  that  sleep  was  the  boy's  best  med- 
icine, and  that  he  would  probably  wake  up  wholly 
recovered,  seized  upon  the  occasion  to  augment  his 
anxiety  and  endeavored  to  dissuade  him  from  his  de- 
sire for  fighting. 

A  word  of  introduction  here  may  not  be  amiss,  for 
this  Irish- American  lad  plays  no  small  part  in  Phillip 
Bertram's  subsequent  career. 

Jack  O'Donnell  was  a  warm-hearted,  impulsive 
boy,  two  years  the  senior  of  Phillip,  considerably 
taller,  but  more  slender  and  exceedingly  agile.  His 
eyes  were  hazel,  his  face  shockingly  freckled,  and  his 
hair  of  that  carroty  red  much  in  vogue  among  some 
of  the  fiery  sons  of  the  Emerald  Isle.  His  father, 
Pat  O'Donnell,  had  come  from  Tipperary,  bringing 
his  young  wife  and  his  mother  with  him.  Jack  wras 
born  a  few  days  after  their  arrival.  They  had  no 
money  and  for  half  a  year  his  parents  and  the  old 
lady  lived  in  extreme  poverty.  Then  Mr.  O'Donnell 
found  steady  employment  on  a  new  railroad  exten- 
sion and  was  able  to  support  his  little  family  in  some 
comfort.  At  the  end  of  a  year  Jack's  mother  gave 
birth  to  another  child,  but  never  arose  from  her  sick- 
bed. After  an  illness  of  a  week  she  followed  the  baby, 
which  had  lived  but  a  few  hours  after  its  birth.  Jack's 
father,  overcome  with  grief,  became  reckless  and  for 
a  time  took  to  drinking.  His  old  mother,  however, 
did  not  give  up  her  efforts  to  reclaim  him  in  her  own 
effective  way.  While  she  earned  sufficient  to  support 
herself  and  the  baby,  she  refused  to  give  him  any- 
thing to  eat  unless  he  brought  home  money.  This 

63 


PLUCK 

soon  forced  Pat  to  work,  and  with  it  came  better 
thoughts.  After  a  short  time  he  again  became  in- 
dustrious and  saving,  and  in  half  a  dozen  years,  with 
the  combined  earnings  of  his  mother  and  himself, 
had  saved  sufficient  to  purchase  and  pay  for  the 
shanty-like  structure  in  which  we  now  find  Mrs. 
O'Donnell  and  young  Jack. 

However,  though  he  did  not  "bring  her  to  her 
grave,"  as  his  mother  always  said  he  would  when  he 
didn't  do  as  she  wanted  him  to,  he  left  her  one  day 
the  burden  of  supporting  herself  and  the  child  alone ; 
to  be  sure,  without  any  fault  on  his  part,  because  he 
was  buried  by  the  caving  in  of  a  bank  while  digging 
the  roadbed  along  a  hillside,  but  the  old  lady  always 
believed  that  she  had  suffered  the  greater  misfortune 
through  the  accident. 

She  was  still  a  healthy,  robust  women  at  that  time, 
and,  having  a  house,  found  little  difficulty  in  support- 
ing herself  and  Jack.  One  mistake  she  made,  how- 
ever: Instead  of  letting  the  child  run  about  on  the 
streets,  learning,  all  too  young,  the  ways  and  habits 
of  the  street  Arab,  she  might  have  sent  him  to  one 
of  the  public  schools ;  but  she  preferred  to  add  to  her 
little  hoard,  eventually  intended  for  her  grandson, 
the  scattering  pennies  which  he  early  learned  to  earn 
by  selling  newspapers.  After  a  time  he  added  a  shoe- 
blacking  outfit,  and  thus  increased  his  earnings  con- 
siderable. It  is  feared,  however,  his  grandmother  did 
not  see  them  all,  for  he  quite  naturally  acquired  some 
of  the  vices  of  the  class  with  whom  he  associated,  and 
could  smoke  like  a  sailor  before  he  was  ten  years  old. 
As  he  grew  older  he  remained  no  stranger  to  the  taste 

64 


NEW  FRIENDS 

of  liquor,  though  he  rarely  joined  his  chums  in  drink- 
ing, simply  because  he  did  not  like  it ;  and  there  was 
hardly  a  dance-hall,  saloon,  or  other  place  of  amuse- 
ment in  that  section  of  the  city  with  which  he  was 
not  familiar.  He  knew  all  the  policemen  for  miles 
around  and  was  on  friendly  terms  with  them  as  a 
matter  of  policy,  and  consequently  always  escaped 
punishment  for  his  little  escapades — which  were 
numerous. 

He  had,  however,  one  besetting  sin  which  often 
came  near  landing  him  in  the  police  station  and  which 
made  the  friendship  of  the  policemen  particularly  val- 
uable :  He  was  always  ready  for  a  fight,  and  it  mat- 
tered little  whether  he  got  the  worst  of  it  or  not,  or 
knew  beforehand  that  he  would  get  whipped,  he  was 
always  ready  when  opportunity  offered.  Thus,  many 
a  time  he  had  come  home  with  his  face  scratched  and 
bleeding  and  his  eyes  black  and  blue,  only  to  receive 
an  additional  whipping  from  his  vigorous  grand- 
mother. 

Of  late  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Pat 
Flynn,  a  local  celebrity  of  the  prize  ring,  consider- 
ably older  than  Jack,  whose  condescension  to  notice  so 
much  younger  a  boy  than  himself,  immensely  flat- 
tered Jack;  so  that  for  the  time  being  Pat  was  his 
hero  whom  he  worshipped.  Pat  had  given  him  a  few 
lessons  in  boxing  and  showed  him  where  to  plant  the 
"knockout"  blows,  one  of  which  he  had  experimentally 
used  on  Phillip  with  such  eminent  success.  And  at 
present  it  was  the  ambition  of  his  life  to  become  a 
prize  fighter,  greatly  to  the  disapproval  of  his  grand- 
mother. 

Go 


PLUCK 

So  that,  when  Phillip  lay  there  sleeping  on  the 
couch,  looking  very  pale,  and  Jack  did  not  know  but 
what  he  might  die,  she  felt  no  compuction  in  increas- 
ing his  terror  in  the  hope  that  it  might  have  a  salu- 
tary effect. 

He  gave  up  his  daily  round  and  left  his  bundle 
of  papers,  which  one  of  the  boys  had  brought  in,  lying 
in  the  comer  of  the  room,  to  become  a  dead  loss,  be- 
cause in  the  afternoon  when  other  editions  were  out 
no -one  would  buy  them.  He  even  made  Sammy 
Dornbush  remain  to  act  as  interpreter  in  case  Phillip 
awoke,  promising  to  make  up  his  loss  on  his  papers. 
Sammy  was  glad  to  oblige  because  he  had  any  amount 
of  respect  for  a  boy  who  could  strike  such  a  blow ; 
and  it  is  doubtful  whether  Jack  would  not  in.  his 
anxiety  have  made  him  remain  by  force  had  he  not 
done  so  willingly. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Phillip  finally 
awoke.  He  sat  up  and  at  once  recognized  Sammy  and 
Jack.  The  former  asked  him  in  German  how  he  felt 
now,  and  he  replied  that  he  was  hungry. 

This  brought  great  relief  to  Jack  when  the  answer 
was  interpreted  to  him,  and  he  at  once  hurried  the 
old  lady  to  get  the  boy  something  to  eat.  He  wanted 
to  give  Phillip  more  whisky,  but  it  was  refused. 
Water,  he  said  he  wanted,  and,  when  he  had  drank  it, 
inquired  of  Sammy  where  he  was.  Sammy  related 
what  had  occurred  and  repeated  what  Jack  had  told 
him  to  say  when  he  had  first  regained  consciousness. 

At  this  Phillip  looked  long  and  half  distrustfully 
at  Jack,  as  if  to  read  his  nature,  while  the  latter  felt 
and  looked  uncomfortable ;  but,  finally,  as  if  satisfied 

66 


NEW  FRIENDS 

with  the  scrutiny,  he  extended  his  hand  to  him.  Jack 
understood,  and  he  shook  the  proffered  hand  warmly 
— then,  rejoiced  at  the  removal  of  the  burden  of 
anxiety  from  which  he  had  suffered  all  day,  he  danced 
a  jig  around  the  room. 

"Tell  him,  Sammy,  we'll  take  him  home.  Tell  him 
to  eat  all  he  wants  to  and  not  to  be  in  a  hurry ;  there 
is  plenty  of  time." 

Phillip  sat  down  to  a  little  table  and  ate  his  fill 
while  answering  all  manner  of  questions.  And  the 
more  he  answered  the  more  the  others  became  inter- 
ested and  continued  to  question. 

By  the  time  he  had  finished  eating,  his  companions 
were  acquainted  with  the  greater  part  of  his  exper- 
iences since  he  landed  in  New  York  City,  and  he  had 
awakened  their  liveliest  interest. 

The  old  lady  was  full  of  sympathy  for  the  poor 
lad,  and  to  think  that  her  "Jack  had  knocked  him 
down !" 

"Oh,  now  shut  up,  granma,"  said  Jack.  "If  you 
had  seen  the  little  devil  go  at  me — and  he  struck  hard 
— you'd  a'thonght  I  had  better  defend  myself.  He 
was  like  a  little  whirlwind,  and  mad  all  through.  But 
he's  a  good  lad  and  we'll  help  him  find  his  friend,  and 
if  Sammy  and  I  can't  do  it,  nobody  can't." 

He  questioned  Phillip  as  minutely  as  possible,  but 
could  get  no  information  as  to  the  location  of  the  hotel 
where  Mr.  Gross  was  stopping,  only  that  Phillip 
thought  it  must  be  about  a  mile  from  the  place  they 
called  Castle  Garden. 

Jack  knew  Pfeffer,  who  kept  a  boarding  house  and 
saloon,  much  frequented  by  tough  characters,  about 

67 


PLUCK 

fourteen  or  fifteen  blocks  to  the  southwest;  but  he 
had  never  heard  of  his  having  a  son  or  of  any  one  by 
the  name  of  Krumm,  and  had  no  doubt  the  name 
was  assumed  by  one  of  the  landlord's  numerous  stool- 
pigeons  employed  by  him  to  lure  in  "greenhorns"  and 
"suckers." 

Suddenly  Jack  remembered  that  the  daily  papers 
published  the  arrivals  at  the  leading  hotels.  He 
searched  through  a  stack  of  "left  over"  copies  and 
found  one  of  the  date  of  Mr.  Gross'  arrival.  But  on 
examining  the  lists  carefully  he  did  not  find  Mr. 
Gross'  name — only  such  as  were  deemed  to  be  "prom- 
inent men."  Of  course  some  other  paper  might  con- 
tain them  all,  or  at  least  have  classed  Mr.  Gross  among 
the  prominent  men,  but  such  were  not  at  hand. 
Then  he  thought  that  perhaps  Mr.  Gross  might  have 
inserted  an  advertisement  for  Phillip,  and  he  and 
Sammy  looked  through  all  the  papers  in  the  stack 
covering  the  recent  dates,  but  could  find  nothing.  It 
was  slow  work,  because  neither  of  them  could  do 
more  than  spell  out  the  printed  words;  and  it  may 
be  that  they  overlooked  the  advertisement  which  Mr. 
Gross  had,  in  fact,  caused  to  be  inserted,  or  it  may 
be  that  it  was  contained  in  other  dailies,  as  New  York 
had  even  at  that  time  a  large  number  of  them.  At 
any  rate  they  did  not  find  it. 

Finally  nothing  remained  to  be  done  except  to  start 
out  for  Pfeffer's,  where  Jack  would  make  careful  in- 
quiries while  Phillip  remained  as  much  as  possible 
out  of  sight,  in  Sammy's  charge. 


68 


CHAPTER  V. 

LOST   IN   NEW  YORK. 

T  was  already  growing  dusk  when  the  three 
started,  and  Mrs.  O'Donnell  called  to  them 
to  "be  sure  to  bring  the  bye  back  if  yez  can- 
not foind  his  frind." 

Another  day,  the  sixth,  had  passed  since  Phillip 
had  been  lured  from  the  hotel,  and  he  was  wondering 
what  Mr.  Gross  would  think  and  do.  Still,  he  was 
hopeful  now,  as  he  had  found  friends  to  help  him  who 
knew  the  city  well. 

They  walked  rapidly  and  reached  Pfeffer's  place 
just  as  the  street  lamps  were  being  lit.  Phillip  and 
Sammy  stopped  a  short  distance  before  they  got  there, 
while  Jack  proceeded  on  alone. 

He  entered  at  the  saloon  door,  and,  walking  boldly 
up  to  the  bar,  called  for  a  glass  of  beer.  There  wc^c 
few  in  the  saloon  at  that  hour.  One  man,  evidently 
drunk,  was  sleeping  at  one  of  the  tables,  while  several 
others,  also  the  worse  for  liquor,  were  trying  to  pltiy 
at  cards. 

Jack  sipped  his  beer  slowly  and  began  to  converse 
with  the  bartender;  and  when,  casually,  he  dropped 
the  remark  that  Pat  Flynn  was  giving  him  lessons  in 
boxing,  he  held  his  interest  in  a  moment.  Pat  Flynn 

69 


PLUCK 

was  known  as  a  good  fighter,  and  any  one  whom  Pat 
patronized  must  be  quite  a  fellow.  He  looked  at 
Jack's  wiry  figure  with  approval,  and  was  very  will- 
ing to  talk  with  him.  Jack  asked  him  whether  they 
ever  had  any  "bouts"  at  this  place,  and  was  informed 
that  they  frequently  had,  and  invited  in  for  next 
Saturday  night.  To  his  question  as  to  police  inter- 
ference, he  received  the  answer  that  their  regular  pa- 
trolman for  this  beat  had  been  removed,  and  they  had 
a  new  man  in  his  place,  but  that  the  new  man  was 
"all  right." 

"Wasn't  Mike  Danter  the  cop  who  used  to  patrol 
this  beat?"  asked  Jack,  "and  what  was  he  removed 
for?" 

Just  then  the  landlord  stepped  from  the  hotel  of- 
fice into  the  bar  room,  and  overhearing  the  last  ques- 
tion, suspiciously  inquired : 

"Who  wants  to  know  about  Mike  Danter  ?" 

Jack  answered  he  did,  and  a  few  words  of  explana- 
tion from  the  bartender  soon  satisfied  his  master. 

"Danter  is  in  the  lockup  for  letting  a  kid  get  away 
from  him  who  had  beat  me  out  of  his  board  bill,"  he 
readily  lied. 

"Who  was  the  kid,  and  where'd  he  cum  from  ?" 
asked  Jack. 

"Oh,  he  was  some  greenhorn  who  lost  his  way,  and 
I  kept  him  over  night  because  he  said  he  could  pay 
for  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"But  didn't  some  one  come  with  him  and  don't  you 
know  where  his  friends  live  ?"  continued  Jack. 

70 


LOST  IN  NEW  YORK 

The  other  looked  at  him  more  suspiciously  and  an- 
swered sharply,  "No,  sir,  he  came  alone  and  I  know 
nothing  about  him." 

Jack  interrogated  further;  but  the  landlord  was 
reticent;  nor  dare  he  mention  the  name  of  Krumm 
for  fear  of  disclosing  his  knowledge  of  the  affair.  He 
therefore  lounged  about  for  a  while  in  the  hope  of 
seeing  some  one  who  would  answer  to  the  description 
of  Krumm  as  Phillip  had  given  it,  but  without  suc- 
cess. 

Finally  he  left  and  returned  to  his  friends,  who 
were  impatiently  awaiting  him  at  the  corner,  and  in- 
formed them  of  the  f  ruitlessness  of  his  inquiries. 

Nothing  remained  but  to  give  up  the  search  for 
that  day,  and  Sammy,  after  telling  Phillip  of  the  ar- 
rangements made  for  him  for  the  night  and  follow- 
ing morning,  as  planned  by  Jack,  was  released  until 
the  next  day,  while  the  other  two  boys  returned  to 
the  home  of  Mrs.  O'Donnell. 

Let  us  now,  for  a  few  moments,  return  to  Peter 
Gross. 

On  the  day  he  started  out  to  do  his  business  in  the 
city,  leaving  Phillip  sound  asleep  in  his  room,  he  re- 
turned to  the  hotel  shortly  after  one  o'clock.  He 
looked  for  Phillip,  first  in  the  office  and  then  in  his 
room.  Not  finding  him  there  he  searched  the  writ- 
ing-, smoking-,  billiard-,  and  other  rooms,  and  not  get- 
ting sight  of  Phillip  in  any  of  them  he  inquired  of 
the  clerk.  The  clerk  had  not  seen  the  boy,  but  a  bell- 
boy standing  near  said  that  he  had  seen  him  sitting 
in  the  front  window  until  near  noon  and  then  start 

71 


PLUCK 

out  with  a  young,  smart-looking  chap,  whom  he  sup- 
posed to  be  a  friend. 

Mr.  Gross  thought  this  strange,  because  he  did  not 
know  of  any  friends  that  Phillip  could  have  in  the 
city ;  but  all  he  could  do  was  to  await  his  return. 

When  after  an  hour  the  boy  had  not  come  back,  he 
got  his  dinner  and  started  out  to  complete  his  busi- 
ness, thinking  that  on  his  return  Phillip  would  be  sure 
to  be  back.  He  had  with  him  samples  of  the  wines 
he  had  purchased  in  Southern  Germany  and  was  en- 
deavoring to  dispose  of  a  part  of  the  cargo  to  New 
York  dealers.  Being  a  good  judge  and  shrewd  buyer 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  disposing  of  as  much  of  his 
stock  as  he  had  intended,  at  a  good  profit,  and  re- 
turned to  the  hotel  quite  elated  at  his  success,  at  about 
seven  o'clock. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  hotel  he  was  very  much  sur- 
prised to  find  his  charge  still  absent ;  and  when,  after 
close  inquiry,  he  found  that  the  boy  had  not  been  back 
during  the  afternoon,  he  became  uneasy. 

Now,  Mr.  Gross,  although  a  man  of  considerable 
ability  in  his  line,  was  inexperienced  in  many  other 
matters,  and  but  little  acquainted  with  the  dangers 
surrounding  the  "green"  immigrant  in  the  City  of 
New  York.  He  and  his  friends  had  met  with  a  wel- 
come reception  when  they  came  to  this  country  twenty 
years  before,  and  none  had  cause  to  complain  of  any 
attempts  to  defraud  or  rob  them.  The  fact  was,  they 
had  nothing  to  be  robbed  of ;  and  "emigrant  sharks" 
rarely  fail  to  promptly  discover  this  and  let  such 
alone.  He  had  now  and  then  heard  rumors  of  emi- 
grants being  led  astray,  but  none  of  his  friends  having 

72 


LOST  IN  NEW  YORK 

ever  fallen  victim,  he  had  paid  little  attention  to 
them. 

When,  therefore,  on  his  return,  he  found  Phillip 
still  gone,  although  feeling  uneasy,  he  apprehended 
no  serious  evil,  and,  after  waiting  a  while,  went  to 
supper. 

After  supper  he  sat  in  the  hotel  office  and  smoked, 
and  after  a  while  quietly  dozed  in  his  chair.  Hour 
after  hour  rolled  by,  but  Phillip  did  not  appear.  At 
about  ten  o'clock  Mr.  Gross  awoke,  and,  noticing  the 
lateness  of  the  hour,  made  inquiries  of  the  clerk.  He 
was  informed  that  the  boy  had  not  been  seen.  A 
messenger  was  sent  up  to  the  room,  but  returned  with 
the  information  that  he  was  not  there. 

The  old  gentleman  was  now  seriously  alarmed  and 
asked  the  clerk  what  he  had  better  do.  The  clerk, 
when  he  heard  the  circumstances  fully,  advised  Mr. 
Gross  to  inform  the  police  as  speedily  as  possible,  as 
he  suspected  the  boy  had  been  lured  away  to  be 
robbed.  Under  the  guidance  of  one  of  the  bell-boys, 
the  old  gentleman  immediately  went  to  the  nearest 
police  headquarters  and  laid  the  matter  before  the 
superintendent  in  charge.  He  gave  the  best  descrip- 
tion of  Phillip  that  he  could,  and  offered  to  pay  all 
expenses  incurred  in  the  search. 

A  vigorous  investigation  was  at  once  set  on  foot  by 
the  police  and  continued  for  several  days.  The  next 
morning  Mr.  Gross  caused  advertisements  for  the 
missing  boy  to  be  inserted  in  a  number  of  the  leading 
dailies,  and  himself  travelled  about  the  city  in  vain 
hope  of  running  across  his  young  friend  somewhere. 

73 


PLUCK 

That  these  efforts  were  all  without  success  is  but 
natural  when  it  is  remembered  that  during  the  time 
Phillip  lay  neglected  in  a  distant  police  station,  vainly 
awaiting  trial,  without  even  an  entry  or  record  of  his 
name  or  description  of  his  person  having  been  made 
which  might  have  drawn  the  attention  of  the  author- 
ities to  him.  And  on  the  day  he  was  discharged,  un- 
der the  unusual  reprimand  of  the  court  to  the  officers, 
none  of  them  for  the  moment  thought  of  the  inquiry 
set  on  foot  for  a  boy  of  that  description ;  and  if  later 
they  did  Phillip  had  disappeared. 

When  at  the  end  of  six  days  all  search  and  inquiry 
had  been  futile,  Mr.  Gross  was  very  much  disheart- 
ened ;  added  to  this  came  a  telegram  from  home  that 
his  immediate  departure  was  imperative.  His  wife, 
who  was  almost  as  rotund  as  himself,  had  an  attack  of 
apoplexy,  and  her  recovery  was  doubtful. 

He  again  visited  police  headquarters  and  urged 
them  not  to  give  up  the  search,  at  the  same  time  leav- 
ing his  address  and  supplying  money  for  necessary 
expenses.  In  case  the  boy  was  found  they  were  to 
forward  him  to  Philadelphia  at  once.  And  with  a 
heavy  heart  the  good  man  took  the  next  train  for  his 
home. 

The  police  faithfully  continued  the  search,  but 
without  success  until  nearly  two  weeks  later,  as  will 
be  hereafter  related. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   SEARCH  SUCCESSFUL. 

the  morning  following  Jack's  visit  to 
Pfeffer's,  Sammy  showed  up  bright  and 
early,  and  it  was  agreed  that  they 
should  each  get  their  usual  bundle  of 
papers  and,  while  selling  them,  make  search  for 
the  hotel  where  Mr.  Gross  had  lodged  in  the  lower 
end  of  the  city ;  and  in  order  to  gain  more  ready  ad- 
mittance everywhere  Phillip  was  also  to  take  papers 
to  sell.  Newsboys  always  gained  admission  when  idle 
loafers  would  be  excluded.  But  Phillip's  "green" 
appearance  must  first  be  modified  somewhat;  Jack 
therefore  had  him  wear  one  of  his  own  hats  and  leave 
the  little  German  cap  at  home,  because  it  was  too 
distinguishing  a  mark  of  his  nationality.  The  neces- 
sary selling  cry  Phillip  soon  mastered,  and,  after  vis- 
iting the  printing  office,  the  three  started  down  town 
fully  equipped. 

That  day  was  spent  in  visiting  Castle  Garden  and 
the  lower  end  of  the  city ;  but  nowhere  could  Phillip 
recognize  any  distinguishing  mark  which  might  help 
him  to  identify  the  course  they  had  taken ;  and  even 
if  he  had,  he  retained  but  an  uncertain  recollection  of 
the  distance  they  had  walked  to  the  hotel. 

75 


PLUCK 

The  sights, however,  which  he  saw  all  day,  the  surg- 
ing, hurrying,  busy  mass  of  humanity,  the  great 
buildings,  the  rushing  street  cars,  and  the  thousands 
of  vehicles  winding  their  seemingly  perilous  way 
rapidly  through  the  throng — all  together  held  a  won- 
derful charm  for  him.  It  was,  indeed,  a  new  world 
into  which  he  had  been  transplanted.  At  times  he 
half  forgot  his  quest,  so  much  was  he  entranced  by 
what  he  saw;  and  then  again  he  would  recollect  and 
be  filled  with  anxiety. 

That  night  when  they  returned  to  Jack's  home,  he 
was  very  tired,  and  after  a  hearty  supper,  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  innocent.  The  more  he  had  reflected,  the 
easier  he  had  felt,  because  after  all  no  harm  had  come 
to  him  except  losing  his  money  and  letters,  and  in 
place  he  found  two  warm-hearted  little  friends,  to  say 
nothing  of  Mrs.  O'Donnell.  And  Mr.  Gross  was  un- 
doubtedly safe  and  would  soon  be  found.  Besides  he 
had  learned  that  day  how  he  could  earn  enough  to 
live :  The  papers  he  sold,  Jack  told  him,  left  a  clear 
profit  of  fourteen  cents,  and  he  had  but  half  tried  and 
knew  he  could  do  better  with  practice.  So  that  if 
worse  came  to  worst  he  still  felt  safe. 

When  he  awoke  in  the  morning  Sammy  was  already 
there,  and,  after  a  hurried  breakfast,  they  again  start- 
ed out.  To-day  they  intended  to  search  directly  for 
the  hotel,  and  it  was  again  necessary  that  they  stay 
together,  as  Phillip  was  the  only  one  who  could 
identify  it  if  found.  All  day  they  trudged  along  from 
street  to  street,  entering  many  hotels  to  see  whether 
Phillip  would  recognize  one  of  them  as  the  right  one, 
but  without  success.  This  was  continued  day  after 

76 


THE  SEARCH  SUCCESSFUL 

day,  for  a  week,  until  it  seemed  that  they  must  have 
visited  every  leading  hotel  in  the  city. 

Phillip  had  now  about  given  up  hope  of  finding 
Mr.  Gross.  He  had  picked  up  many  English  words 
during  the  last  week  and  was  learning  to  understand 
Jack  with  very  little  aid  from  Sammy.  Every  even- 
ing after  Sammy  went  home  the  other  two  were  cast 
upon  their  own  resources  to  make  each  other  under- 
stand their  desires,  and  the  force  of  necessity  sharp- 
ened intellect  and  memory.  The  last  few  days  Phillip 
had  made  quite  rapid  progress,  and  he  felt  certain 
that  in  this  way  he  would  in  a  short  time  be  able  to 
speak  the  English  language  well  enough  for  his  wants. 
This  life  of  excitement  had  an  irresistible  charm  for 
him,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  thought  of  Mr.  Gross' 
possible  anxiety  he  would  have  been  quite  happy  in 
his  new  surroundings. 

Laboriously,  for  several  days,  Jack  spelled 
through  the  advertisements  in  a  large  number  of  the 
city  papers  which  he  had  managed  to  pick  up  in  hotel 
lobbies  and  like  places  during  the  day,  but  meeting 
with  no  success,  he  gave  it  up.  When  all  efforts  re- 
mained fruitless  so  long  a  time,  he  tried  to  encourage 
Phillip. 

"Never  mind,  Phil,"  he  said  one  day,  when  the 
boy  looked  tired  and  downhearted;  "if  we  can't  find 
Mr.  Gross  you  can  stay  with  me  and  granma  and 
earn  your  own  living.  I  always  liked  the  kids  better 
who  had  to  hustle  for  their  pennies,  than  such  little 
dandies  as  we  see  every  day  whose  pop  is  rich,  and 
who  do  nothing  but  play  and  loaf  all  the  time.  I'll 

77 


PLUCK 

teach  you  how  to  shine  shoes,  too,  and  with  that  and 
selling  papers  you  can  live  like  a  king." 

Phillip  agreed  with  him.  He  was  so  much  enam- 
ored of  this  free,  easy  and  exciting  life,  that  he  had 
already  made  up  his  mind  to  ask  Mr.  Gross'  consent 
to  remain  in  New  York  a  while  longer,  in  case  they 
found  him. 

It  was  Sunday  evening,  and,  since  they  had  labored 
hard  at  their  search  all  week,  Jack  proposed  that  they 
take  a  ride  on  the  street  car  down  to  the  central  part 
of  the  city  and  visit  some  place  of  amusement.  They 
accordingly  set  out,  first  calling  on  their  friend 
Sammy,  who  had  become  almost  inseparable  from 
them,  to  take  him  along. 

Sammy  was  just  having  a  hard  time  of  it  at  home. 
His  father,  who  had  as  usual  been  carousing  all  day, 
had  returned,  much  under  the  influence  of  liquor, 
and  had  seized  the  boy  and  beaten  him  for  bringing 
home  less  money  than  usual,  during  the  preceding 
week.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  he  had  helped  so  dili- 
gently in  the  search,  Sammy  had  been  unable  to  de- 
vote as  much  effort  as  formerly  to  selling  his  papers 
and  shining  shoes ;  and  consequently  his  earnings  had 
fallen  off  considerable.  His  mother  was  crying  and 
begging  the  brute  to  let  the  child  alone ;  but  this  only 
infuriated  him  the  more,  and  he  flung  her  aside  and 
fairly  threw  the  little  fellow  out  of  the  door,  telling 
him  he  could  have  no  lodging  there  unless  he  brought 
home  some  more  money. 

Jack  and  Phillip  happened  along  just  as  Sammy 
was  picking  himself  up  from  the  rough  board  walk 
leading  past  the  house.  He  ceased  crying  as  the  boys 

78 


THE  SEARCH  SUCCESSFUL 

canie  up  and  to  their  inquiries  answered  that  his 
father  would  not  let  him  sleep  there  that  night  be- 
cause he  had  not  earned  enough  money  the  week  be- 
fore. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Jack,  "you  can  sleep  with  me ; 
and  now  we  want  you  to  go  down  town  with  us  to  have 
a  good  time.  And  say,  Sammy,  if  your  dad  is  so  ugly 
why  don't  you  run  away  ?  I  wouldn't  stand  it  for  a 
minute." 

Sammy  only  shook  his  head  and  answered,  "Ma 
cannot  spare  me."  He  was  glad,  however,  to  avail 
himself  of  the  double  invitation  for  that  night,  and 
with  the  buoyancy  of  youth  soon  forgot  his  pain  and 
distress  in  the  fun  of  the  evening. 

They  visited  a  number  of  places  which  furnished 
amusements  such  as  boys  would  enjoy,  and,  after  a 
lapse  of  several  hours,  thinking  they  had  had  suffi- 
cient fun  for  one  night,  they  started  for  home.  They 
were  going  to  ride  back  on  a  stret  car  and  were  walk- 
ing toward  the  nearest  street  corner  to  wait  for  a 
friendly  conductor,  when  Phillip  suddenly  stopped 
and  stood  staring  into  a  large  open  window  across  the 
street.  The  crowd  had  thinned  down  considerable 
because  it  was  getting  late  and  Phillip  had,  therefore, 
an  unobstructed  view. 

"What  are  you  looking  at  ?"  said  Sammy,  who  was 
the  first  to  observe  his  actions. 

"Oh,  Chak,  I  denk  das  ist  de  hotel !"  Phillip  ex- 
claimed, excitedly. 

Jack  glanced  in  the  direction  of  Phillip's  look  and 
in  fact  saw  a  hotel  building  with  its  first  story  almost 
entirely  composed  of  stores  and  mercantile  establish- 

79 


PLUCK 

merits.  Only  one  space  on  the  first  floor  seemed  to 
be  occupied  as  a  part  of  the  hotel,  and  this  was  the 
part  Phillip  was  looking  at.  It  was  evidently  the  of- 
fice, as  one  could  see  chairs  placed  about  the  room 
and  a  long  desk  for  the  clerks  at  the  further  end. 
This  hotel  had  been  entirely  overlooked  in  their 
search,  nor  was  it  surprising,  owing  to  its  peculiar 
construction  which  made  it  resemble  rather  a  row  of 
store  buildings  than  a  hotel. 

They  crossed  the  street  and  entered.  At  the  same 
moment  Phillip  shouted  "Das  ist  es,"  forgetting  his 
newly  acquired  English  in  his  excitement. 

Jack  went  up  to  the  clerk  and  inquired  whether  a 
gentleman  from  Philadelphia  by  the  name  of  Gross 
was  stopping  there.  The  clerk  glanced  at  the  register 
and  answered  in  the  negative.  Jack  asked  him  when 
he  left,  and  on  ascertaining  the  time  of  his  arrival 
the  clerk  soon  recalled  the  gentleman  and  stated  that 
he  had  been  summoned  home  more  than  a  week  ago. 

Jack  asked  him  whether  he  had  left  any  word  for 
the  little  boy  who  had  come  there  with  him,  and  the 
clerk  on  noticing  Phillip  recognized  him  and  remem- 
bered the  fact  of  his  disappearance  and  the  unsuccess- 
ful search. 

He  gave  them  all  the  information  he  could  and 
directed  them  to  the  police  department,  where  they 
would  find  full  instructions  from  Mr.  Gross  as  to  the 
boy.  They  were  too  excited  to  answer  fully  as  to 
where  Phillip  had  kept  himself  all  this  time,  and  only 
told  him  they  had  been  searching  in  vain  for  this  hotel 
for  more  than  a  week,  and  then  rushed  away  to  the 
department  the  clerk  had  designated. 

80 


It  was  getting  late  and  when  they  got  there  the 
superintendent  had  left  for  the  night,  so  that  they 
found  only  a  subordinate  officer  in  charge,  who,  al- 
though he  remembered  the  affair,  could  not  give  them 
much  information,  and  requested  them  to  call  again 
in  the  morning,  at  which  time  the  superintendent 
would  be  there. 

Nothing  remaining  to  be  done  the  boys  returned 
home,  a  happy  and  excited  lot.  Jack  and  Sammy  felt 
inclined  at  times  to  be  depressed,  because  they  had 
become  attached  to  their  young  friend  and  hated  to 
have  him  go  away. 

Phillip,  however,  was  happy,  and  fairly  boiling 
over  with  glee.  He  had  already  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  would  not  at  once  go  to  Philadelphia,  but 
would  write  Mr.  Gross  his  present  situation,  and  that 
he  intended  to  remain  in  New  York  for  a  short  time 
longer. 

When  he  told  his  friends  of  his  intentions,  in  his 
mixed  German  and  English,  so  that  Jack  understood 
as  soon  as  Sammy,  they  were  almost  as  happy  as  he. 

Jack  proposed  that  in  the  morning  Sammy  should 
devote  himself  to  his  newspapers  and  "shines,"  while 
he  and  Phillip  called  on  the  Superintendent  of  Police, 
in  order  that  he  might  not  again  risk  the  anger  of  his 
father;  but  Sammy  wouldn't  listen  to  it.  He  would 
go  with  them  even  if  he  earned  nothing  and  had  to 
take  a  whipping. 

When  they  arrived  at  home  Mrs.  O'Donnell  let 
them  in  and  when  she  heard  the  good  news  she  hugged 
Phillip  in  her  joyous  excitement ;  but  suddenly  recol- 

81 


PLUCK 

lecting  that  this  probably  meant  Phillip's  departure, 
exclaimed : 

"Oh,  but  it's  ill  news  ye  air  bringin'  me  all  the 
same.  But,  Phillip,  yes  want  lave  yer  granny,  will 
ye  me  bye,"  she  added,  coaxingly.  "Shtay  with  us, 
Phillip,  because  we  can't  shpare  ye  at  all  at  all,"  and 
the  good  creature  started  to  cry. 

When  Jack  informed  her  of  Phillip's  intentions 
she  hugged  him  again,  and  for  once  found  no  further 
cause  for  lamentation. 

The  next  morning  the  three  repaired  to  the  super- 
intendent of  police.  When  they  arrived  he  was  al- 
ready busy  in  his  office,  but,  being  informed  that  it 
was  the  boy  whom  they  had  searched  for  in  vain, 
who  was  waiting  to  see  him,  he  soon  disposed  of  his 
other  visitors  and  directed  our  friends  to  be  admitted. 

His  experienced  eye  immediately  recognized 
Phillip  from  the  description  furnished  by  Mr.  Gross, 
although  he  was  not  surprised  that  others  had  failed 
of  recognition  on  seeing  him  on  the  streets.  The  two 
weeks  of  city  life  of  the  kind  experienced  by  our 
friend,  coupled  with  the  change  of  headwear,  cut  of 
hair  and  partial  change  of  clothes,  adopted  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  Jack,  left  him  little  of  the  appearance  of 
the  newly  landed  little  "Dutchman,"  as  described  by 
Mr.  Gross. 

He  was  familiar  with  the  German  language,  and 
after  questioning  Jack  to  some  extent,  requested 
Phillip  to  relate  all  that  had  happened  to  him  since 
that  morning  at  the  hotel. 

Phillip  complied,  relating  all  from  the  time  of 
being  approached  by  Krumm  until  his  discovery  of 

82 


THE  SEARCH  SUCCESSFUL 

the  hotel  on  the  preceding  night.  The  superintend- 
ent was  much  interested  and  questioned  him  fully  as 
to  his  relations  with  Mr.  Gross  and  his  past  and 
present  friends.  Of  his  parents,  too,  he  had  to  relate, 
and  the  cause  of  his  leaving  home.  For  a  full  hour  our 
hero  answered  his  friendly  questions  as  well  as  he 
could;  and  finally  the  superintendent  informed  him 
that  Mr.  Gross  had  arranged  that  he  was  to  be  sent 
on  to  Philadelphia  as  soon  as  found,  and  had  left  a 
sum  of  money  at  his  disposal  for  that  purpose. 

The  boy  answered  that  he  wished  to  stay  with  his 
new  friends  in  New  York  for  a  time,  because  he  could 
learn  English  here  very  quickly  and  had  already 
found  a  way  to  support  himself  by  selling  papers  and 
shining  shoes.  He  begged  the  superintendent  to  in- 
form Mr.  Gross,  and  that  he  also  would  write  to  him. 

The  superintendent  did  not  attempt  to  dissuade 
him  from  his  purpose,  because  he  knew  Mr.  Gross  had 
no  legal  rights  over  him,  and  because  he  admired  the 
pluck  the  lad  had  shown;  and  also  because  he  knew 
that  the  experiences  natural  to  his  present  life  would 
be  one  of  the  best  schools  to  teach  the  way  to  success. 
He  therefore  telegraphed  Mr.  Gross  that  the  boy 
was  found  safe  and  well  and  that  a  letter  would  fol- 
low. He  gave  Phillip  Mr.  Gross'  address  and  directed 
him  to  report  to  him  when  he  wanted  the  money  for 
the  trip  to  Philidalephia.  Another  thing  he  did,  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment — for  Phillip's  truthful 
recital  of  his  past  had  disclosed  to  him  the  founda- 
tions of  a  manly  character — he  gave  him  a  card  di- 
recting any  officer  to  immediately  communicate  to 
him  any  request  made  by  the  bearer  thereof,  and  told 

83 


PLUCK 

Phillip  to  make  use  of  it  if  he  should  get  iuto  further 
trouble.  He  then  dismissed  them. 

Thus  it  happened  that  Phillip  was  led  to  spend  sev- 
eral years  of  his  young  life  as  a  "street  Arab"  in 
New  York  City;  not,  perhaps,  as  that  word  is  some- 
times applied,  not  as  a  child  of  the  slums,  but  as  one 
of  those  energetic,  wide-awake,  dare-devil  young  fel- 
lows, whose  life  is  spent  midst  the  crush  and  crowds 
of  the  streets,  exposed  to  rains  and  storms,  risks  and 
dangers,  and  temptations  of  every  nature,  while 
"crying"  their  papers,  or  kneeling  in  the  dust  to  shine 
the  shoes  of  dude  or  gentleman. 

And  thus,  too,  a  friendship  was  formed  between 
three  lads  which  blossomed  to  bear  joyous  fruit  to 
them  all  in  the  years  to  come. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  weary  the  reader  with  an 
attempt  to  detail  the  manifold  experiences  of  our 
young  German  friend  during  the  next  few  years  in 
the  life  he  has  just  chosen  to  follow.  This  history  is 
intended  rather  to  direct  the  reader's  attention  to  the 
labors  and  experiences  of  his  maturer  years  under 
surroundings  more  common  to  those  who  have  had 
their  source  in  the  "Fatherland"  and,  who  transposed 
to  America,  have  pushed  forward  through  hardships 
and  misfortune  to  eventual  success. 

And  yet  I  cannot  wholly  omit  reference  to  his  life 
in  New  York  City  during  the  next  four  years;  be- 
cause the  experiences  of  the  boy  during  those  years, 
though  of  little  importance  taken  singly,  were  a  potent 
influence  and  force  in  developing  and  moulding  the 
character  which  afterward  distinguished  the  man. 
Many  times,  in  after  years,  Phillip  remarked  that  of 

84 


THE  SEARCH  SUCCESSFUL 

all  his  experiences  in  life  those  of  New  York  City 
had  been  the  most  fruitful. 

Briefly,  therefore,  and  only  briefly,  permit  me  in 
the  next  few  chapters  to  sketch  his  career  from  the 
time  he  left  the  office  of  the  Superintendent  of  Police 
until  the  day,  nearly  four  years  later,  when  he  and 
Sam  Dornbush  bade  farewell  to  Jack  and  grandma 
CXDonnell  to  seek  their  fortunes  in  the  great  West. 


85 


CHAPTER  VII. 


LEARNING  THE  HOPES. 


w 


the  boys  returned  to  Mrs.  O'Donnell's 
it  was  after  twelve  o'clock ;  so  they  ate  their 
dinner,  and  then  Jack  and  Sammy  started 
out  to  put  in  an  afternoon  of  hard  work  at 
their  trade  of  shining  shoes  and  paper  selling,  which 
latter  would  begin  as  soon  as  the  afternoon  editions 
were  issued. 

Phillip  remained  at  home  and  wrote  letters  to  Mr. 
Gross  and  to  his  parents.  He  had  written  the  latter 
but  once  since  he  left  shipboard,  and  felt  that  it  was 
time  to  write  again.  He  wrote  a  fairly  good  hand  in 
German,  thanks  to  the  persistent  drill  of  his  father, 
and  there  was  certainly  no  lack  of  experiences  to  re- 
late. To  Mr.  Gross  he  wrote  a  full  account  of  all  that 
had  happened  to  him  since  that  morning  at  the  hotel. 
He  was  extravagant  in  his  praise  of  Jack  and  Sammy 
and  Mrs.  (^Donnell,  and  related  all  he  could  think 
of  to  show  that  he  was  safe  and  among  good  friends. 
He  then  asked  permission  to  remain  in  New  York  for 
a  while  longer.  At  the  last  he  begged  the  favor  to 
draw  the  money  left  in  the  hands  of  the  superintend- 
ent of  police  for  his  use  in  making  the  journey  to 
Philadelphia,  in  order  that  he  might  send  it  to  his 

86 


LEARNING  THE  ROPES 

father,  assuring  Mr.  Gross  very  earnestly  that  he 
could  soon  earn  enough  himself  to  pay  for  the  trip, 
and  pay  back  the  money. 

The  reply  from  Mr.  Gross  was  characteristic  of  the 
man.  He  was  jubilant  that  no  harm  had  come  to 
Phillip,  and  was  willing  he  should  stay  for  a  short 
time ;  but  the  money  in  the  hands  of  the  superintend- 
ent must  remain  there  until  he  came.  He  had,  how- 
ever, by  the  same  mail  sent  some  more  money  to  the 
superintendent,  which  the  latter  would  help  him  for- 
ward to  his  father.  The  old  gentleman  was  evidently 
in  a  very  happy  state  of  mind.  His  wife,  whose  sud- 
den illness  had  compelled  his  hasty  return  home,  was 
recovering,  and  he  himself  never  felt  better  in  his  life. 

The  fact  that  Phillip  had  asked  his  consent  to  stay 
in  New  York  for  a  time,  flattered  him  immensely, 
and  he  felt  almost  a  fatherly  regard  for  the  boy ;  and 
after  much  good  advice  he  wound  up  his  long  letter 
with  his  best  effort  at  English — probably  expecting 
that  Jack  would  be  called  to  to  interpret  it  and  thus 
at  the  same  time  become  impressed  with  his  wishes — 
"und  don't  forget  dat  you  must  komm  home  as  gwick 
as  you  haf  seen  de  hull  cidy." 

Phillip  was  duly  rejoiced  at  this  kind  letter  and 
called  on  the  superintendent,  who  showed  him  a  draft 
for  one  hundred  dollars,  which  he  had  been  requested 
to  have  converted  into  European  exchange  and  send 
to  Mr.  Bertram.  This  was  done,  and,  with  a  note  of 
explanation,  it  in  due  time  reached  its  destination. 

If  the  previous  letter  had  gladdened  the  parents' 
hearts  by  telling  of  the  safety  of  their  darling  boy, 
this  filled  them  to  overflowing,  for  it  seemed  as 

87 


PLUCK 

though  blessings  were  already  beginning  to  flow  from 
their  self-sacrificing  act.  The  money  came  as  a  god- 
send and  seemed  almost  a  fortune  to  the  poor  school- 
master in  his  pinched  circumstances.  Of  the  many 
gifts  Phillip  later  sent  them,  none  ever  gladdened 
their  hearts  more,  or  came  more  opportune. 

After  sending  this  letter  to  his  parents  and  another 
to  Mr.  Gross,  Phillip's  mind  was  at  ease,  and  he  was 
ready  to  devote  himself  to  business. 

From  that  time  on  the  boys  worked  industriously 
at  their  trade.  Early  in  the  morning  and  until  late 
at  night  they  cried  their  papers  or  solicited  shines 
from  the  passers-by.  The  little  greenhorn  rapidly 
acquired  the  street  English  of  his  fellows,  and  before 
three  months  had  passed  could  speak  it  with  tolerable 
readiness.  He  had  a  quick,  retentive  mind,  and  was 
a  close  observer  of  his  surroundings,  and  soon  knew 
as  much  of  the  streets  of  New  York  as  many  of  his 
young  friends  who  were  born  there. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  the  little  urchins  of  the 
trade,  who  had  given  him  such  an  uncomfortable  re- 
ception at  his  first  encounter  with  them,  so  nice  to  get 
along  with.  They  were  a  lot  of  impulsive,  reckless, 
warm-hearted  little  fellows,  and  he  soon  learned  to 
like  their  companionship.  His  connection  with  Jack, 
as  his  chum,  gained  him  good  treatment,  even  from 
the  few  who  might  otherwise  have  been  inclined  to 
annoy  him ;  but  his  own  ready  sympathy  for  each  lit- 
tle fellow's  troubles  did  more  to  gain  him  friends 
among  them  than  Jack's  protection. 

Also  he  was  earning  more  money  each  day  than  his 
father's  week's  salary  amounted  to.  He  had  agreed 


LEARNING  THE  ROPES 

with  "Granina"  O'Donnell,  as  both  boys  called  her, 
to  pay  her  a  regular  sum  for  his  board,  and  he  and 
Jack  slept  together  in  one  bed  which  had  been  consid- 
erably improved  since  the  addition  of  some  of  the 
linen  from  Phillip's  little  trunk  which  Mr.  Gross  had 
forwarded  to  him  at  his  request. 

Thus  the  summer  passed  and  winter  came  with  all 
its  storms  and  hardships.  Mr.  Gross  had  written  sev- 
eral times  requesting  Phillip  to  come,  but  the  latter 
persistently  begged  for  leave  to  remain  a  while  longer, 
until  Mr.  Gross  reluctantly  consented.  Mrs.  O'Don- 
nell had  laid  in  a  good  stock  of  fuel  and  Jack  and 
Phillip  earned  all  the  money  necessary  for  a  com- 
fortable living ;  but  Phillip  had  ample  opportunity  to 
witness  want  and  suffering  among  those  who  lived 
lives  of  vice  and  crime.  Associating,  as  he  did,  only 
with  boys  of  the  poorest  classes — some  of  whose  par- 
ents fed  their  appetites  for  strong  drink  on  the  hard- 
earned  pennies  of  their  young  offspring,  without  a 
thought  for  the  future — he  saw  them  experience  the 
sufferings  of  hunger,  cold  and  disease  without  means 
to  help  them. 

Often  the  women  were  as  bad  as  the  men ;  and  the 
children  readily  drifting  into  the  same  paths,  in  emu- 
lation of  their  elders,  presented,  altogether,  a  picture 
of  moral  disease,  that  needed  but  the  addition  of 
physical  suffering  to  make  it  wholly  revolting  and  piti- 
able. 

Sometimes,  however,  it  was  only  the  father's  weak- 
ness that  had  dragged  his  wife  and  children  to  pov- 
erty, and  such  cases  appealed  so  strongly  to  Phillip's 
sympathetic  heart,  that  his  little  gifts  of  charity  left 

89 


PLUCK 

him  no  savings  during  the  bitter  cold  months  of  his 
first  winter  in  New  York.  He  would  have  given  away 
all  his  daily  earnings  had  not  Mrs.  O'Donnell  insisted 
upon  the  prompt  payment  of  his  board.  As  it  was, 
his  little  previous  savings  were  gone  long  before 
spring  opened.  Sammy  was  taken  sick  and  he  and  his 
feeble  mother  would  probably  have  been  left  to  starve 
by  the  drunken  father  and  husband  had  not  Phillip 
and  Jack  supplied  their  daily  wants. 

But,  in  spite  of  hard  work  and  long  hours,  the  boys 
found  time  for  fun.  Jack  would  not  give  up  his  pu- 
gilistic ambition.  Every  fight  or  boxing  bout  found 
him  an  intensely  interested  spectator,  and  soon  he  in- 
duced Phillip  to  acompany  him.  Pat  Flynn  still  gave 
him  lessons  now  and  then  and  they  were  faithfully 
rehearsed  at  home  with  Phillip,  in  spite  of  gran-ma's 
remonstrance.  Jack  had  bought  a  set  of  soft  gloves 
and  many  hours  of  the  long  winter  evenings  were 
passed  in  the  healthy  exercise  of  boxing,  Granma 
O'Donnell,  although  she  was  constantly  scolding 
about  it,  was  always  an  excited  spectator,  and  some- 
times when  one  or  the  other  got  in  a  "scientific"  blow 
she  would  forget  herself  and  shout : 

"Oh,  but  that  was  a  daisy,  wasn't  it,  byes.  Ye 
can't  do  it  agin,  I'll  bet !" 

Jack  had  the  best  of  Phillip  for  a  long  time.  He 
was  taller  and  had  greater  "reach,"  although  the  lat- 
ter was  as  quick  of  movement  as  he,  and  no  amount  of 
"punishment"  seemed  to  affect  him.  But,  when  now 
and  then  he  got  one  of  his  solid  blows  in  on  Jack,  it 
had  a  tendency  to  make  the  latter  wince.  Gradually 

90 


LEARNING  THE  ROPES 

it  became  a  question  hard  to  determine  which  of  the 
two  would  come  out  best  in  case  of  a  test  to  the  finish. 

Thus  the  winter  slowly  passed  and  spring  came 
with  its  warming  sunshine  and  balmy  days.  The  poor 
suffered  no  longer  from  exposure  to  cold,  and  the 
power  of  disease  felt  the  conquering  effect  of  the 
vitalizing  spring  air. 

Phillip  had  received  two  letters  from  home,  each 
breathing  a  wealth  of  love,  and  laden  with  gentlest  ex- 
hortation to  industry  and  virtue.  Each  brought  on  a 
spell  of  homesickness,  which  it  took  several  weeks  to 
overcome.  He  had  written  of  his  progress  in  Eng- 
lish, his  earnings  and  his  experiences  and  observa- 
tions; and  had  always  pictured  his  future  in  rosiest 
light.  He  now  got  a  letter  that  set  him  to  thinking. 
His  father  urged  him  to  endeavor  to  continue  his  edu- 
cation, because,  he  wrote,  "Without  a  good  education 
your  dreams  of  future  success  will  never  be  realized." 

Phillip  felt  that  the  life  he  was  leading  and  his 
associations  tended  to  lead  him  to  forget  much  of  his 
father's  good  advice  and  his  mother's  prayerful  teach- 
ings, and  he  resolved  to  do  better  in  the  future.  He 
had  often  wished  to  be  able  to  read  the  newspapers, 
and  with  Jack's  assistance  had  even  learned  the  alpha- 
bet and  to  spell  out  the  headlines;  but  he  knew  he 
needed  much  more ;  and  with  the  awakening  of  con- 
science came  also  the  desire  to  progress. 

One  morning  he  almost  knocked  Jack  over  with  the 
remark : 

"Ghack,  I'm  going  to  school." 

This  was  such  an  unheard-of  resolve  that  Jack 
could  only  gasp  in  astonishment: 

91 


PLUCK 

"Going  where?" 

"Going  to  school,"  Phillip  repeated;  "I  want  to 
learn  to  read  and  write." 

"But  how  will  you  earn  your  living  if  you  go  to 
school  ?"  Jack  queried. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  de  day  school ;  I  read  a  sign 
de  odder  day  over  on  Broome  Street  where  it  said 
'Night  School,  7  to  10  efery  night/  and  I'm  going 
dere  to-night  and  see  wedder  I  can't  tchoin," 

"Of  course  you  can  join,"  said  Jack,  "but  then 
what's  to  become  of  all  our  fun,  evenings  ?" 

"I  can't  help  dat,  Chack;  I  want  to  learn  some- 
ding.  I  can't  efen  read  de  newsbabers  wat  we  sell 
efery  day,  and  you  can't  nieder.  You  go  along  and 
maybe  we  have  some  fun  dere  too." 

Jack  looked  dubious ;  and  he  didn't  like  to  miss  his 
companion  during  the  evenings,  because  without  him 
it  didn't  seem  as  though  he  could  have  much  fun.  At 
first  he  tried  to  talk  Phillip  out  of  the  notion,  but 
when  he  found  him  obdurate  he  finally  said : 

"Well,  how  long  do  you  propose  to  go  ?" 

"Oh,  dill  we  get  dired  of  it,"  Phillip  replied. 

The  old  lady  seconded  Phillip  so  heartily  that  Jack 
at  last  yielded. 

"I'll  go  with  you  to-night,  but  if  I  don't  like  it,  I 
won't  promise  to  go  again.  Work  all  day  and  go  to 
school  at  night  is  too  much." 

This  conversation  took  place  one  morning  at  the 
breakfast  table;  and  during  the  day  they  communi- 
cated their  new  resolution  to  a  number  of  their  young 
companions,  with  the  result  that  half  a  dozen  more 
agreed  to  join.  Sammy,  who  had  recovered  from  his 

92 


LEARNING  THE  ROPES 

illness,  was  as  enthusiastic  as  Phillip,  if  it  only  didn't 
cost  too  much.  Phillip  promised  to  help  him  out  if 
it  was  necessary,  and  Jack,  on  the  theory  that  "mis- 
ery likes  company,"  argued  energetically  to  the  others 
of  the  great  benefit  of  being  able  to  read  the  papers 
which  they  sold  so  as  to  be  able  to  better  announce 
their  contents  to  their  prospective  customers. 

When  evening  came  a  little  band  of  nine  as  bright 
— and  some  dirty — young  future  millionaires  and 
bank  presidents  assembled  in  the  alley  in  front  of 
Jack's  house  to  march  down  to  the  "night  school,"  as 
could  be  found  in  the  city. 


93 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  NIGHT  SCHOOL. 

TJHE  building  in  which  the  school  was  kept 
I  was  a  large  three-story  affair,  the  lower 
floor  of  which  was  used  as  a  grocery  store, 
the  second  for  offices,  and  the  third  by  the 
night  school. 

The  boys  clambered  noisily  up  the  wooden  stair- 
ways, and  the  "Professor"  must  have  thought  a  squad 
of  police  coming,  for  he  met  them  at  the  door  with  a 
startled  look.  He  was  not  less  startled  when  he  saw 
the  little  band  file  boldly  by  him  and  heard  their  re- 
quest. 

Quickly  recovering  himself,  however,  and  in  reply 
to  their  questions  as  to  his  charges,  he  informed  them 
of  his  very  reasonable  fee,  and  they  answered  they 
could  pay  that  and  were  ready  to  begin. 

There  were  but  four  or  five  scholars  present  when 
our  young  friends  entered,  and  two  of  them  were 
very  tidily  dressed  little  girls.  The  professor  assigned 
each  of  the  boys  to  a  seat  behind  a  little  desk,  and 
proceeded  to  examine  them  as  to  the  extent  of  their 
present  knowledge.  He  was  a  tall,  thin  man  with  a 
large  bald  spot  on  the  top  of  his  head,  wearing  silver- 
rimmed  spectacles  on  his  prominent  nose ;  a  bachelor, 
a  little  hard  of  hearing,  living  in  the  same  building, 

94 


THE  NIGHT  SCHOOL 

at  the  rear  end  of  the  second  floor,  with  his  maiden 
sister;  and  his  name  was  Jonathan  Yale — a  fact 
which  led  some  of  his  young  pupils,  in  later  years,  to 
jocosely  remark  that  "Yale"  gave  them  their  early 
education.  It  may  be  that  some  of  them  afterward 
attended  that  famous  institution,  but  it  is  not  likely. 

After  the  examination  the  professor  gave  a  general 
outline  of  what  he  proposed  to  teach  them,  and  he  pos- 
sessed the  gift  of  making  his  remarks  interesting  and 
the  prospects  of  further  knowledge  alluring  to  his 
new  pupils,  so  that  when  they  left  they  were  all 
strongly  confirmed  in  their  desire  to  proceed.  After 
telling  them  what  books  to  purchase  and  where  they 
could  be  had,  he  dismissed  them  for  that  night,  with 
the  request  to  be  prompt  on  the  next,  and  adding  with 
a  very  kindly  smile :  "And,  boys,  if  you  will  all  wash 
your  hands  and  faces  real  clean  before  you  come  you 
will  please  me  very  much." 

This  request,  made  in  the  manner  in  which  it  was, 
had  the  desired  effect  and  at  once  called  these  little 
"Arabs'  "  attention  to  the  necessity  for  improvement 
in  their  personal  appearance. 

The  boys  started  for  home,  which  was  nearly  a 
mile  distant,  talking  and  laughing,  and  thinking  it 
great  sport  to  come  out  every  night  together ;  for  they 
knew  they  would  always  have  some  kind  of  fun  on 
the  way.  But  this  evening  in  particular  should  not 
pass  without  making  them  all,  and  especially  Jack, 
almost  fall  in  love  with  going  to  school. 

They  had  proceed  a  few  blocks  eastward  and  just 
turned  to  the  south,  when  Phillip  seized  Jack  by  the 
coat  sleeve  and  excitedly  whispered  in  his  ear :  "Dere 

95 


PLUCK 

is  Krumm,Chack,see  him?" and  pointed  in  the  direc- 
tion of  two  young  fellows,  about  the  age  of  Jack,  com- 
ing directly  toward  them. 

"Which  one  ?"  Jack  exclaimed,  equally  as  excited 
in  an  instant. 

"Dere,  dat  one  nearest  de  lamp  bost,  wid  de  blug 
hat  on." 

Just  at  that  instant  the  two  approaching  figures 
passed  into  a  saloon  but  a  few  paces  ahead  of  the 
boys. 

Phillip  in  all  these  months  had  not  seen  Krumm, 
although  he  was  ever  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for 
him;  and,  although  the  latter  was  now  dressed  like 
a  swell  and  had  grown  considerable,  Phillip  recog- 
nized him  at  once. 

"Come,  boys,"  said  Jack,  jumping  to  the  front  and 
taking  the  lead,  "here  is  that  skunk  that  helped  to  rob 
Phil.  Now  let's  get  even  with  him." 

So  saying  he  led  the  way  into  the  saloon  Krumm 
and  his  friend  had  just  entered,  followed  by  the  rest. 

There  was  not  one  of  the  little  band  who  had  not 
heard  of  Phillip's  initiation  into  New  York  life  and 
Krumm's  connection  with  the  same,  and  they  were  all 
anxious  to  see  what  Jack  would  do  with  him,  and  if 
possible  to  take  part  in  punishing  him. 

When  the  group  entered  the  saloon,  Krumm  and 
his  friend  were  standing  at  the  bar  taking  a  drink. 
No  one  else  was  present  in  the  room,  except  the  bar- 
tender. 

Jack  walked  straight  up  to  the  young  crook  and 
slapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  at  the  same  time  turn- 
ing him  partly  around  so  as  to  face  him. 

96 


THE  NIGHT  SCHOOL 

"So  you  are  Krumm,  Mr.  Jacob  Goldluchs !  That  is 
the  way  you  get  your  money  to  wear  such  fine  clothes, 
you  crook !  You  got  the  right  name  this  time.  Phil- 
lip says  Krumm  is  German  for  crooked.  Now  I'm 
going  to  help  straighten  you  out  a  little,  Mr.  'Krumm,' 
and  maybe  soil  your  clothes,  too."  So  saying  Jack 
drew  off  his  coat  and  threw  it  to  one  of  the  boys,  who 
quickly  formed  a  semi-circle  around  the  pair,  while 
Krumm's  partner,  or  rather  Jacob  Goldluchs,  as  his 
true  name  was,  as  quickly  edged  away  from  the  latter 
and  made  his  way  unmolested  to  the  door. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  said  the  bartender, 
roughly,  hurriedly  coming  around  the  end  of  the  bar 
to  where  the  boys  stood. 

"I'll  tell  you  what's  the  matter,"  said  Jack,  loudly, 
while  "Krumm,"  seeing  no  way  of  escape,  still  stood 
leaning  against  the  counter  without  understanding 
Avhat  Jack  was  alluding  to,  so  completely  had  the  oc- 
casion when  he  had  assumed  the  name  of  Krumm 
passed  from  his  mind,  although  he  felt  that  it  must 
be  one  of  the  many  crooked  acts  which  he  had  com- 
mitted, "that  is  the  skunk  who  got  my  chum  into 
Pfeffer's  a  year  ago  and  had  him  robbed.  You  re- 
member Danter,  the  policeman,  whom  he  fooled  too, 
and  who  afterwards  got  locked  up  for  five  days  and 
was  suspended  from  the  force  for  three  months  be- 
cause he  forgot  to  enter  the  boy's  name  ?  Well,  there's 
Phillip,  he's  the  boy  they  robbed,  and  we've  been 
looking  for  that  stool-pigeon  ever  since,  hain't  we, 
boys;  but  we  couldn't  find  him  because  we  didn't 
know  that  the  handsome  dandy  there,  Jacob  Gold- 
luchs,  was  'Krumm'." 

97 


PLUCK  Jf 

"Yes,  Banter  told  me  all  about  it  only  a  week  ago 
last  Sunday  afternoon,  when  I  met  him  at  Sander- 
son's on  Stair  Street.  Square  up  there,  'Krumm,' 
and  let's  see  if  you  can  fight  as  well  as  rob  people. 
I'll  look  the  door  till  we  see  the  result."  And  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word  the  bartender  proceeded  to  bolt 
the  door  to  prevent  interruption  of  a  sport  he 
enjoyed. 

Goldluchs  had  turned  pale  when  he  heard  of  the 
particular  offense  for  which  he  was  to  be  taken  to 
account,  but  recovered  himself  when  he  observed  that 
Jack  was  certainly  no  older  or  stronger  than  himself. 
He  was  no  coward  and  would  not  take  a  whipping 
without  resistance,  and  the  bartender  would  probably 
want  to  see  fair  play;  at  any  rate  to  fight  was  his 
only  chance. 

When,  therefore,  Jack  approached  him  again  he 
threw  off  his  coat  and  told  him  to  "come  on,  you  liar 
— I  never  saw  that  boy  before  and  had  nothing  to  do 
with  robbing  him." 

But  he  hadn't  sized  up  Jack  exactly  right !  To  be 
called  a  liar  in  addition  to  his  righteous  indignation 
at  the  outrage  perpetrated  on  his  friend  was  like 
touching  a  match  to  a  pile  of  tinder,  and  all  his  scien- 
tific pugilistic  training  leaped  like  lightning  to  his 
control. 

With  the  rapidity  of  thought  he  sprang  at  his  oppo- 
nent and  showered  the  blows  like  hailstones  upon  him. 
There  was  no  chance  to  feint  or  guard.  Mouth,  jaws, 
ears,  nose,  eyes  and  neck  got  it;  the  left  and  right  fist 
were  doing  equal  service ;  an  upper-cut  would  be  fol- 
lowed by  a  stunner  from  underneath,  until,  fairly  be- 

98 


THE  NIGHT  SCHOOL 

wildered,  Goldluchs  simply  held  up  both  arms  to 
ward  off  as  much  as  possible  the  terrible  punishment 
he  was  receiving. 

"Ye  would  rob  the  poor  bye,  would  ye,"  panted 
Jack,  between  blows,  falling  back  into  his  natural 
brogue  while  doing  such  splendid  execution,  "ye 
skunk,  ye  thief,  ye  scoundrel;  ye  would  take  him  to 
yer  fayther's  hotel,  would  ye,  and  bring  him  back  to 
Mr.  Gross,  would  ye,  you  miserable  cur !  Oi'll  tache 
yer  to  rob  poor  innercint  lads  whin  they  came  to  this 
counthry.  Oi'll  tache  yer  to  have  thim  thrown  into 
jail !  Whiniver  Oi  mate  ye  we'll  have  the  foon  over 
and  over  agin !" 

With  words  like  these,  and  I  fear  some  worse,  Jack 
interlarded  his  fine  exercise,  while  his  friends  looked 
on  with  a  delight  they  had  rarely  experienced. 

Phillip  had  called  to  Jack  several  times  to  "quit, 
he's  got  enuff,"  but  Jack  didn't  hear  or  didn't  want 
to  hear  him,  until  Goldluchs  sank  to  the  floor  exhaust- 
ed and  bleeding  from  almost  every  inch  of  his  face. 

Jack  turned  round  to  Phillip;  "Is  it  enough,  you 
say  ?  No,  I'll  repeat  this  dose  every  time  I  meet  him. 
Oh,  I  could  have  given  him  a  knockout  blow  long 
ago,"  he  said,  proudly,  "but  I  didn't  want  to  knock 
him  out,  I  wanted  to  punish  him." 

Neither  the  bartender  nor  any  of  the  boys  had 
heard  the  loud  knocks  and  shaking  of  the  door  during 
the  excitement  until  now,  when  they  were  repeated 
with  a  violence  which  threatened  to  force  an  entrance. 
The  bartender  hastened  to  open. 

99 


PLUCK 

A  policeman  entered,  accompanied  by  Goldluch's 
friend,  who  had  called  him  to  his  assistance  as  soon 
as  he  found  trouble  liable  to  ensue. 

Jack  promptly  confessed  himself  the  guilty  party 
and  gloried  in  his  work.  He  was  marched  off  to  the 
nearest  police  station,  followed  by  all  the  boys,  feel- 
ing "happy  as  a  clam."  He  had  never  enjoyed  him- 
self so  much  in  his  life,  and  did  not  care  if  he  was 
locked  up  for  a  month. 

"You  take  care  of  granma,  Phil,  till  I  get  back, 
and  tell  her  what  a  glorious  time  I've  had.  When  I 
get  out  I'm  going  to  school  every  day." 

All  the  boys  felt  inclined  to  credit  their  adventure 
to  their  new-born  educational  aspirations,  and  felt 
that  if  they  could  have  such  a  treat  now  and  then  they 
would  willingly  put  up  with  a  few  hours  of  daily  re- 
straint. 

When  they  left  the  station  Phillip  determined  to 
see  the  magistrate  in  the  morning  and  tell  him  why 
Jack  had  whipped  the  fellow.  It  was  the  same  place 
where  he  had  been  locked  up  for  five  days,  a  year  ago, 
and  his  sense  of  justice  told  him  that  if  the  judge  only 
knew  all  about  it  he  would  be  likely  to  let  off  Jack 
with  a  lighter  sentence  than  otherwise. 

When  he  reached  home  he  found  old  "granma" 
waiting  for  them  as  usual;  and  great  were  her  la- 
mentations when  Phillip  told  her  that  Jack  was  at 
the  police  station  and  how  it  came  about. 

"Oh,  that  bye,  that  bye !  Sure  he'll  bring  his  ould 
granma  to  the  grave  with  all  the  sorrow  and  inxiety. 
Oh,  Lor',  an'  they  may  hang  him  and  Oi'll  niver  see 
him  inny  more!" 

100 


THE  NIGHT  SCHOOL 

Phillip  tried  to  console  her,  but  could  make  no  head- 
way until  he  accidentally  mentioned  that  he  had  never 
seen  Jack  look  so  fine  or  do  such  beautiful  work  as 
when  he  was  punishing  Krumm,  when  she  brightened 
up  in  a  moment. 

"An'  did  the  bartinder  see  it,  too ;  an'  did  he  give 
him  wan  of  his  foine  lift  hand  swings  as  always  used 
to  make  ye  dizzy  before  ye  learned  to  guard;  an'  ye 
soiy  he  shtruck  ivery  blow  fair  an'  niver  below  the 
belt?"  she  asked,  excitedly;  but  quickly  added  as 
though  she  felt  she  had  betrayed  herself :  "Ah,  Jack 
is  me  darlint  bye,  but  the  poor  lad  can't  let  fightin' 
alone,  an'  kapes  me  in  constint  terror  an'  throuble." 

However,  she  wanted  to  know  all  about  the  fight, 
and  Philli^  had  to  describe  it  again  and  again;  and 
when  she  finally  sent  him  to  bed  she  was  humming 
"Saint  Pathrick's  Day  in  the  Mawrning." 

Next  day  Phillip  went  early  to  the  station,  but 
found  that  court  was  not  yet  in  session.  At  about  ten 
o'clock  the  judge  came,  and  the  clerk  and  other  offi- 
cers took  their  places. 

"Call  No.  1,  Mr.  clerk,"  said  the  judge.  Two 
names  were  read  aloud,  and  an  officer  quickly 
brought  in  the  prisoners.  They  were  two  Italians, 
and  a  sight  to  behold !  One  had  a  bandage  over  the 
left  eye,  and  the  nose  and  lips  swollen  to  twice  their 
natural  size.  The  other  had  both  eyes  and  his  whole 
face  so  swollen  and  cut  and  discolored  that  he  bore 
little  resemblance  to  the  "image  of  God." 

They  were  laborers,  who,  in  returning  from  their 
work  early  in  the  evening  of  the  previous  day,  had 
stopped  to  take  a  drink,  and,  though  good  friends,  got 

101 


PLUCK 

into  a  quarrel  resulting  in  a  fight  which  only  police 
interference  finally  terminated.  During  the  night 
they  got  entirely  over  their  quarrel  and  each  was 
willing  to  admit  that  the  fight  had  been  his  fault. 

When  the  magistrate  had  briefly  heard  them  ho 
turned  to  the  clerk.  "Enter;  No  cause  for  judicial 
interference — prisoners  sufficiently  self  punished — 
discharged."  Then  he  added  with  a  smile,  "You 
might  also  enter  a  description  of  their  appearance  in 
support  of  the  judgment  of  the  court."  He  was  evi- 
dently in  good  humor  that  morning,  and  it  was  lucky 
that  Jack's  case  was  called  before  others  had  a  chance 
to  spoil  it. 

"Call  the  next,"  he  commanded,  and  Phillip  heard 
the  "Jack  O^Donnell,  assault  and  battery,"  an- 
nounced, and  a  few  moments  later  saw  his  friend  con- 
ducted into  the  court  room. 

Phillip  sat  in  the  rear  of  the  room  in  one  of  the 
seats  provided  for  the  spectators,  and  Jack  did  not 
at  first  see  him.  After  the  charge  had  been  read  and 
the  officer,  who  made  the  arrest,  had  stated  what  he 
knew  of  the  matter,  the  judge  turned  to  Jack  and 
asked : 

"Well,  sir,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself  ?" 

"Nothing,"  was  Jack's  short  answer. 

"Eh,  do  you  confess  yourself  guilty?"  said  the 
judge,  evidently  much  surprised  at  such  an  unusual 
occurrence. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  licked  him  as  hard  as  I  could,  and  you 
would  think  it  was  a  pretty  good  job  if  you'd  seen 
him,  your  Honor,"  he  added  with  a  half  smile  as  the 
recollection  of  Krumm's  face  came  to  him. 

102 


THE  NIGHT  SCHOOL 

"Then,  sir,  you  are  not  sorry  for  your  violation  of 
the  law,  and  have  no  excuse  to  offer  ?"  continued  the 
judge,  sternly. 

"No,  sir,  an'  I'll  do  it  agin  wheriver  Oi'l  foind 
him,"  answered  Jack,  falling  back  to  his  brogue  in 
the  excitement  induced  by  the  bare  remembrance  of 
the  scene  of  the  night  before. 

"Thirty  days — first  half  bread  and  water,"  the 
judge  dictated  to  the  clerk.  "Call  the  next !" 

Before  the  clerk  had  time  to  do  so,  however,  a  dis- 
turbance was  heard  in  the  back  end  of  the  room. 
Phillip  no  sooner  observed  the  defiant  attitude  of  his 
friend  and  heard  the  sentence  of  the  court,  when  he 
jumped  from  his  seat  and  started  to  rush  up  to  where 
Jack  stood  before  the  bar,  on  the  inside  of  the  railing. 
But  an  officer  intercepted  him  and  held  him  back. 

"Leave  me  go,  I  want  to  dalk  to  de  chudge,"  he  de- 
manded loudly,  while  struggling  to  free  himself. 

"Well,  what's  the  rumpus  now,"  the  magistrate  ex- 
claimed, glancing  up  over  his  spectacles. 

"Here's  a  bye,  yer  Honor,  as  wants  to  talk  to  yer 
Honor." 

"Then  bring  him  up  here,"  the  judge  commanded. 
"Well,  what  do  you  mean  by  such  conduct  in  the  court 
room  ?"  he  continued,  looking  sternly  at  Phillip  when 
he  had  been  brought  before  him. 

"Blease,  sir,  I  want  to  go  to  chail.  Chack  done  it 
for  me.  Oh,  blease  let  him  go  home — his  granma  will 
feel  so  bad,"  Phillip  answered,  the  tears  coming  to 
his  eyes. 

103 


PLUCK 

"What's  that!  you  want  to  go  to  jail  in  place  of 
this  fellow ;  and  why,  my  boy  ?  What  do  you  know 
of  this  matter  ?" 

"Oh,  sir,  Ohack  only  licked  dat  Krumm  who  dook 
me  to  Pfeffer's  last  year,  where  dey  shtole  all  wat  I 
had,  and  den  got  Mr.  Danter,  de  boliceman,  to  lock 
me  up  here  for  fife  days,  and  den  you  let  me  go  and 
locked  up  de  boliceman,"  Phillip  answered  hurriedly. 

Happily  the  magistrate  recalled  the  circumstance, 
which  had  at  the  time  so  outraged  his  sense  of  justice, 
and  his  voice  was  kindly  when  he  again  spoke. 

"And  Jack  licked  him  because  he  led  you  to  Pfef- 
fer's to  be  robbed?  How  is  this,  Jack,  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

Jack  now  promptly  told  how  he  had  long  kept  a 
sharp  lookout  for  Krumm,  but  not  knowing  him  by 
sight,  could  never  find  him  till  last  night,  when  they 
accidently  ran  across  him  as  they  were  coming  home 
from  the  night  school ;  and  that  when  Phillip  pointed 
him  out  he  saw  it  was  Jacob  Goldluchs ;  and  then  he 
related  with  flushed  face  how  he  had  whipped  him; 
"and,  your  Honor,"  he  finally  wound  up,  "I'm  not 
sorry  and  want  to  go  to  jail." 

"So  this  is  the  little  'Dutchman'  they  received  so 
warmly  in  this  country,"  the  judge  said,  turning  to 
Phillip.  "Well,  you  seem  to  be  making  pretty  good 
progress,  and  I'm  glad  to  see  you  are  none  the  worse 
for  your  rough  reception.  Mr.  Clerk,  just  strike  out 
that  entry  and  make  it  'justifiable  manslugging',"  he 
added,  while  a  broad  smile  enveloped  his  face  at  his 
modification  and  adaptation  of  a  legal  term.  "And 
you,  Mr.  Officer,  we'll  forgive  you  because  you 

104 


THE  NIGHT  SCHOOL 

couldn't  know  the  circumstances;  but  you  got  the 
wrong  boy.  Goldluchs  is  the  fellow  you  should  have 
brought  in."  Then,  turning  to  our  friends,  added 
with  more  seriousness,  "Boys,  you  can  go,  and  don't 
be  too  sure  that  you  will  always  get  off  as  easy  when 
you  take  the  law  into  your  own  hands." 

The  boys  thanked  him  and  went  out,  while  the 
judge  looked  after  them  with  approval  in  his  eyes; 
then,  glancing  around  at  the  officers,  said :  "A  regu- 
lar Damon  and  Pythias  pair.  Such  incidents  are  as 
refreshing  as  a  spring  shower.  Call  the  next  case." 


105 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE  FIGHT  BETWEEN  CHUMS. 


s 


UMME.R  passed  rapidly,  and  the  long  even- 
ings of  fall  and  winter  were  again  at 
hand.  The  boys,  with  the  exception  of 
one,  still  stuck  faithfully  to  their  school. 
Although  they  did  not  again  enjoy  such  great 
fun  as  that  first  evening  on  the  way  home,  yet  rarely 
an  evening  passed  without  sport  of  some  kind.  They 
were  full  of  life  and  quick  to  see  and  appreciate  the 
humorous  side  of  things.  Jack,  strange  to  say,  was  the 
promptest  pupil  of  them  all,  though  not  the  most  per- 
fect in  his  lessons.  His  deportment  had  undergone  a 
marked  change.  His  face  and  hands  were  always  well 
washed,  and  he  was  bound  to  wear  his  best  clothes. 
The  reason,  of  course,  was  not  long  a  secret  to  the 
others.  It  was  found  in  the  bright  eyes  and  comely 
face  of  Fanny  Manners,  one  of  the  little  girl  pupils. 
But  Jack  had  a  quick  temper  and  none  dared  tease 
him  further  than  by  an  occasional  veiled  allusion. 

Phillip,  as  a  rule,  paid  good  attention  to  his  studies 
and  was  making  rapid  progress.  His  quite  thorough 
start  in  education  at  home  came  to  his  advantage  now, 
and  he  found  that  all  general  knowledge  was  equally 
as  much  one's  own  in  whatever  language  it  may  have 

106 


THE  FIGHT  BETWEEN  CHUMS 

been  acquired.  He  had  therefore  soon  outstripped  his 
classmates  and  was  receiving  separate  instructions. 
Only  one  thing  was  a  constant  stumbling  block, — his 
tongue  persistently  refused  to  assume  the  right  shape 
for  the  "v's"  and  "th's".  This  annoyed  him  so  that 
he  practiced  constantly,  sometimes  in  his  sleep  even 
disturbing  his  chum  with  his  efforts  at  "v"  which  al- 
ways assumed  the  sound  of  "fee'.  He  was  happy 
when  he  finally  got  the  control,  and  promptly  and 
joyously  wrote  the  good  news  to  his  father. 

He  kept  his  parents  well  informed  of  all  that  he 
did  or  that  happened  in  his  little  circle.  To  Mr. 
Gross,  too,  he  wrote  now  and  then  and  received  re- 
plies. He  had  about  made  up  his  mind  to  remain  in 
New  York  at  least  several  years.  He  liked  the  life 
he  was  leading,  though  often  he  longed  for  the  green 
fields  and  rustling  forests  of  the  country.  He  did  not 
care  to  go  to  Philadelphia,  because  it  was  only  ex- 
changing one  city  for  another,  and  involved  leaving 
all  his  young  friends.  He  had  received  no  informa- 
tion concerning  the  Lawrences,  except  once  Mr.  Gross 
wrote  that  they  left  Boston  to  seek  a  suitable  location 
in  the  West,  but  did  not  then  know  where  they  would 
settle.  They  had  enquired  kindly  about  Phillip, 
thinking  him  with  Mr.  Gross,  and  sent  their  love. 
Phillip's  heart  beat  at  the  recollections  called  up.  He 
could  see  little  Bessie's  sweet  face  near  his  and  her 
rosy  lips  uttering  some  endearing  remark  which  he 
did  not  then  understand,  while  her  soft  young  arms 
were  clasped  about  his  neck — thus  he  had  held  her  in 
his  arms  when  he  kissed  her  good-bye  on  the  wharf  at 
Hoboken  more  than  a  year  ago.  It  seemed  a  long 

107 


PLUCK 

time,  but  the  recollection  of  it  was  so  fresh  it  often 
made  him  cry  from  sheer  homesickness  and  longing. 

He  was  saving  all  that  he  could,  because  Christmas 
he  wanted  to  send  his  parents  some  more  money,  when 
he  got  a  letter  from  his  father  requesting  him  to  keep 
his  little  earnings  for  future  needs,  as  they  had  now 
no  difficulty  to  live,  and  even  the  sum  Mr.  Gross  had 
sent  them  was  over  half  intact.  He  therefore  gave 
his  savings  to  granma  O'Donnell  to  keep  for  him. 

Thus  nearly  three  years  passed  with  little  change 
in  Phillip's  circumstances,  except  that  he  gained 
daily  in  experience  and  knowledge  of  life  and  men. 
He  stuck  to  his  school,  and  Jack  and  some  of  the  oth- 
ers also.  Only  once  did  he  have  any  trouble  with  his 
chum.  It  was  on  a  Fourth  of  July.  There  was  an 
excursion  and  picnic  up  the  Hudson. 

Thousands  availed  themselves  of  the  opportunity 
of  enjoying  the  fresh  air  of  the  country.  Landings 
were  made  at  different  placed  devoted  to  amusement. 
Phillip  and  Jack  were  with  a  party  that  landed  about 
fourteen  miles  north  of  the  present  site  of  Sacred 
Heart  Convent;  and  when  they  reached  the  picnic 
grounds,  Jack  was  overjoyed  to  find  Fanny  Manners 
there  in  the  company  of  Miss  Yale,  the  professor's 
sister. 

He  was  head  over  heels  in  love  with  Fanny,  or 
thought  he  was,  which  made  it  just  as  important  to 
him;  and  he  at  once  went  up  to  Miss  Yale  and  Fan- 
ny, followed  by  Phillip,  and  greeted  them,  while 
making  his  handsomest  bow. 

Miss  Yale  was  very  friendly  to  the  boys ;  she  knew 
them  well  and  her  brother  had  often  sounded  their 

108 


THE  FIGHT  BETWEEN  CHUMS 

praises  to  her.  Fanny  was  a  dear  little  girl  whose 
parents  had  hard  work  to  support  their  large  progeny, 
and  Miss  Yale  had  proposed  to  take  her  out  for  a  pic- 
nis,  a  proposition  which  her  parents  accepted  hardly 
less  gladly  than  Fanny.  The  only  other  girl  pupil 
of  her  brother,  Nellie  Bronson,  had  gone  with  her 
parents  on  a  visit  to  some  relatives  in  the  country. 

Phillip  wanted  to  have  some  fun  and  take  part  in 
games  with  the  other  boys,  but  Jack  was  filled  with 
no  such  desires.  He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
leaving  his  sweetheart,  possibly  to  some  other,  and 
hung  about  her  constantly.  The  other  did  not  want 
to  desert  his  chum,  so  to  Jack's  very  serious  annoy- 
ance he  remained  and  gave  close  company. 

Finally  Fanny  sent  Jack  off  on  an  errand  and,  dur- 
ing his  absence,  asked  Miss  Yale  for  permission  to 
wander  about  the  grounds  for  a  few  minutes  with 
Phillip.  Miss  Yale,  deeply  engaged  in  reading  a 
very  interesting  novel,  gave  her  consent,  and  Fanny 
and  Phillip  started  off.  Fanny  said  she  sent  that  dis- 
agreeable freckled  fellow  away  purposely  as  she  de- 
tested him,  and  she  wanted  to  be  for  a  few  minutes 
with  some  one  she  liked.  "Oh,  he's  such  a  bore;  I 
can't  look  up  without  his  looking  at  me  as  though  he 
wanted — oh,  I  can't  tell  how ;  I  wish  he'd  pay  atten- 
tion to  Nellie — and  that  little  minx  is  all  the  time 
teasing  me  when  she  knows  I  can't  bear  him !"  and 
she  showed  all  her  disgust  and  impatience  in  voice 
and  face. 

Phillip  felt  sorry  for  Jack,  and  he  told  her  he  was 
an  awful  good  boy. 

109 


PLUCK 

"Well,  I  don't  care,  I  just  hate  him !  and  I  wish 
I'd  never  see  his  face  again !"  she  exclaimed  almost 
angrily. 

Just  then  she  saw  Jack  returning  with  a  flushed 
face  and  angry  look ;  and  when  she  did  she  put  on  a 
look  of  the  greatest  sweetness  and  affection  she  was 
capable  of  and  bent  toward  Phillip  and  looked  up  in 
his  face  with  the  appearance  of  confidence  and  inti- 
macy. 

Jack  could  not  help  seeing  it,  and  the  little  vixen 
did  it  purposely  for  him  to  see.  His  face  grew  darker 
still,  and  without  addressing  them  he  turned  on  his 
heel  and  walked  away. 

Phillip  soon  took  Fanny  back  to  Miss  Yale  and 
left  her  there.  She  was  satisfied ;  she  had  gained  her 
main  purpose,  that  is,  had  gotten  rid  of  Jack. 

Jack  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  Phillip  looked 
through  the  crowd  again  and  again ;  finally  he  strolled 
farther  into  the  woods  and  found  his  friend  sitting 
on  a  stone  near  a  little  brook.  When  he  saw  Phillip 
he  jumped  up,  his  face  red  and  his  fists  clenched. 

"You  are  a  sneak,  a  puppy — you  are  no  friend  of 
mine,"  he  burst  forth,  and  strong  passion  controlled 
him.  "Pretend  to  be  my  friend  and  try  to  steal  my 
girl  behind  my  back,  you  coward,"  and  he  fairly 
hissed  the  last  words  between  his  teeth.  "Come,  now, 
we'll  have  it  out;  if  you  are  the  best  man  you  can 
have  her,  if  I  am,  then  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your 
body  if  you  come  near  her  again." 

Phillip  was  startled  at  first;  but  he  soon  guessed 
the  cause  of  his  friend's  passion — Jack  was  insanely 
jealous ;  and  while  he  grew  pale  at  the  insulting  words 

110 


THE  FIGHT  BETWEEN  CHUMS 

hurled  at  him  he  kept  his  temper  and  endeavored  to 
explain. 

But  Jack  would  hear  no  explanation,  called  him  a 
coward,  and  threatened  that  if  he  would  not  fight  like 
a  man  he  would  whip  him  anyway.  When  Phillip 
saw  that  he  would  not  listen  to  reason,  he  threw  off 
his  coat  and  faced  his  infuriated  friend  with  a  pale 
face  and  compressed  lips. 

Jack  rushed  at  him  like  a  mad  bull,  throwing  his 
scientific  acquirements  to  the  wind,  and  had  his  chum 
then  been  so  inclined  he  might  have  easily  planted  a 
few  blows  that  would  have  brought  about  a  speedy  end 
of  the  encounter;  but  he  did  not  want  to  hurt  Jack 
but  only  to  defend  himself,  and  therefore  slowly  gave 
way  sufficient  to  make  good  his  guard. 

The  asault  was,  however,  so  terrific  that  in  spite  of 
his  utmost  skill  he  could  not  help  receiving  a  number 
of  severe  blows.  Finally  he  saw  that  he  must  strike 
back,  or  be  quickly  done  up.  In  turn  he  therefore 
began  to  give  as  well  as  take ;  and  this  sufficiently 
brought  the  other  to  his  senses  to  realize  that  blind 
rage  would  not  avail  against  Phillip,  and  that  he 
needed  all  the  "science"  he  had  mastered.  He  was 
angry  through  and  through,  and  the  occasional  hard 
thumps  which  he  received  did  not  improve  his  tem- 
per. It  was  by  no  means  his  first  "to  a  finish"  fight ; 
and  many  friendly  contests  with  Phillip  had  shown 
him  that  the  latter  would  be  no  mean  opponent  when 
forced  to  act. 

Phillip  saw  the  change  in  the  other's  tactics  and 
read  an  ugly  determination  to  conquer,  in  his  face. 
He  only  clinched  his  teeth  the  harder,  and  seemed  to 

111 


PLUCK 

groAv  more  cool,  as  though  supported  by  an  inward 
confidence  in  himself.  In  after  years  he  often  said 
that  the  experience  of  those  few  moments,  when  there 
came  upon  him  the  conviction  that  he  could  win  if  he 
would,  was  one  of  the  most  valuable  of  his  life. 
Though  in  boyish  struggle  with  his  bosom  friend,  that 
moment  made  him  almost  a  man ;  he  knew  he  could 
win  if  he  kept  cool  and  used  his  skill,  and  that  con- 
viction prompted  his  actions. 

ISTot  a  word  had  been  uttered  by  either  since  the 
battle  began.  Each  was  now  saving  his  breath.  Jack 
in  his  turn  read  the  look  of  confidence  in  the  eye  of 
the  other,  and  it  did  not  tend  to  cool  his  own  desire 
to  win.  He  pressed  on  to  finish  his  opponent.  But 
Phillip  had  been  an  apt  scholar,  and  while  now  and 
then  a  blow  landed,  most  of  them  fell  short — "struck 
wind."  Finally  Jack  made  a  desperate  rush,  think- 
ing to  take  advantage  of  an  "opening"  several  times 
given;  but  he  made  a  mistake.  It  had  been  but  a 
feint,  and  before  he  could  recover  to  guard,  Phillip's 
right  landed  with  such  terrific  force  on  his  left  jaw 
that  he  staggered  back  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

No  sooner  did  Phillip  see  him  fall  than  remorse 
overcame  him.  What  had  he  done !  Struck  down  his 
best  friend!  The  friend  who  had  stood  by  him 
through  his  early  bitter  experiences  in  the  city! 
Quickly  he  knelt  down  beside  him  and  begged  for- 
giveness. 

"Get  me  some  water  quick,"  gasped  Jack,  "I  feel 
faint." 

Phillip  rushed  to  the  creek  and  brought  his  hat 
full  of  water,  from  which  Jack  drank  greedily.  Then 

112 


THE  FIGHT  BETWEEN  CHUMS 
he  bathed  the  latter's  face  and  head  while  he  lav  on 

*/ 

his  back  with  his  eyes  closed. 

Finally  Jack  looked  up,  and  seeing  the  expression 
of  remorse  on  his  comrade's  face,  raised  himself  on 
his  elbow  and  said: 

"Oh,  you  needn't  feel  bad  about  it.  It  was  a  fair 
fight  and  you  bested  me.  You  can  have  the  girl  and 
I'll  give  you  all  the  show  you  want." 

"But,  Jack,  I  don't  want  her,"  answered  Phillip, 
almost  in  tears.  "You  can  have  her,  I  don't  care  for 
her  at  all." 

"Is  that  so !  then  why  didn't  you  say  so  before  ?" 
Jack  cried,  jumping  to  his  feet  in  a  moment. 

"You  gave  me  no  chance  to  explain,"  Phillip  re- 
plied, and  then  he  told  him  that  Fanny  had  said  she 
wanted  to  get  away  from  him  because  he  hung  around 
her  all  the  time,  and  Nellie  teased  her  so,  and 

"Then  she  don't  care  for  me,  darn  her,"  Jack  inter- 
rupted angrily,  "and  I'll  never  look  at  her  again." 

He  looked  at  Phillip  and  saw  the  bruises  in  his 
face,  felt  of  his  own  and  knew  that  his  eyes  were 
growing  smaller  by  reason  of  the  rising  swelling,  and 
suddenly  burst  out  laughing  with  delight. 

"Oh,  but  wasn't  it  a  beautiful  fight,  Phil!  You 
should  have  seen  yourself.  I  admired  your  coolness 
so,  it  made  me  only  the  more  angry  at  my  own  loss 
of  temper;  and  I  really  believe  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  what  we  were  fighting  for  before  we  were  half 
through.  I  only  thought  of  besting  you ;  but  I  know 
now  I  never  can  do  it.  You  take  the  blows  like  love 
pats  till  you  get  the  other  fellow  winded,  when  you 
bring  in  your  work." 

113 


PLUCK 

Phillip  was  happy  to  see  his  old  friend  himself 
again;  and  both  sat  down  at  the  brook  and  bathed 
their  faces  to  keep  down  the  swelling  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. This  was  their  first  and  only  unpleasantness, 
and  on  Jack's  side,  at  least,  the  recollection  of  it  was 
not  unalloyed  with  pleasure — he  did  so  love  a  fight ! 

From  that  time  on,  and  until  many  years  later, 
Jack,  however,  steered  shy  of  girls,  and  Fanny  cer- 
tainly had  no  further  cause  to  complain  of  his  atten- 
tions. 


114 


w 


CHAPTER  X. 

WHY  PHILLIP   LEFT   NEW   YORK. 

HEN"  the  boys  got  home  that  night  Sammy 
was  waiting  for  them.  "Wouldn't  one  of 
them  come  and  help  him  with  his  mother 
to-night;  she  was  sick  and  he  had  been  up 
two  nights  with  her  and  feared  he  could  not  keep 
awake  another." 

Both  were  ready  at  once,  but  granma  said  only  one 
should  go  that  night  and  the  other  the  next.  So  Jack 
went  with  Sammy.  The  poor  little  fellow  looked  thin 
and  sick  himself.  He  peddled  his  papers  about  the 
streets  all  day,  covering  miles  and  miles,  only  to  have 
his  drunken  father  take  away  his  earnings  when  he 
got  home  late  in  the  evening,  all  tired  out.  Of  late 
his  mother's  condition  had  grown  worse.  The  doctor 
whom  Sammy  had  begged  to  come  only  shook  his 
head;  she  had  no  distinct  malady;  her  vitality  was 
simply  succumbing  to  the  strain  of  years  of  hardship 
and  suffering.  Sammy's  father  now  often  stayed 
away  several  days  at  a  time.  This  was  a  relief 
while  he  was  gone,  but  generally  he  was  only  the  more 
brutal  on  his  return  when  he  found  less  money  await- 
ing him  than  he  expected. 

The  boys  took  turns  for  a  week  in  watching  nights 
with  the  sick  woman;  while  in  day  time  she  had  to 

115 


PLUCK 

remain  alone,  except  when  a  kind-hearted  neighbor 
called  in  to  supply  her  simple  wants.  At  the  end  of 
a  week  she  had  sufficiently  recovered  to  relieve  our 
friends  of  further  trouble  for  a  time. 

Jack  had  quit  school,  and  no  argument  of  Phillip's 
could  induce  him  to  go  back  where  his  erstwhile  flame 
still  attended.  He  now  had  a  new  ambition.  Prize- 
fighting was  all  right  for  some,  those  with  little  brains 
and  a  thick  skull  and  strong  jaws ;  but  he  had  learned 
to  read  and  write,  could  cipher  quite  rapidly,  had 
read  the  history  of  the  United  States,  and  of  late 
some  very  exciting  novels — he  was  fit  for  something 
higher.  He  would  be  a  detective.  He  applied  at  the 
different  detective  bureaus,  but  they  only  laughed  at 
him.  His  persistency,  however,  was  so  lasting,  that 
in  desperation  and  to  get  rid  of  him  Chief  Norton 
one  day  said :  "Look  here,  boy,  if  you  can  find  out 
who  stole  this  lady's  purse  I'll  give  you  a  job,"  and 
he  proceeded  to  give  the  details  of  the  case  as  far  as 
known  to  the  department.  It  was  a  common  case  of 
pocket-picking  in  one  of  the  crowded  mercantile  estab- 
lishments of  the  city,  and,  owing  to  the  lack  of  all 
clew,  one  of  the  hardest  to  discover.  The  loss  was 
small  and  the  lady  was  not  even  certain  whether  she 
had  not  after  all  lost  the  purse  or  left  it  lying  on  the 
counter. 

Jack  listened  eagerly.  He  knew  the  territory 
where  the  supposed  theft  had  occurred  and  pretty 
nearly  all  the  crooks,  old  and  young,  who  frequented 
the  locality.  His  future,  as  he  viewed  it,  depended 
on  his  success.  He  hunted  up  Jem  Mace,  who  did  a 
little  work  in  the  line  of  "picking"  himself  now  and 

116 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

then,  and,  although  Jack  did  not  like  him,  he  thought 
that  perhaps  he  could  make  use  of  him  for  once. 

"Jem,"  he  said,  when  he  had  taken  him  aside,  "I'll 
make  it  worth  your  while  if  you  find  out  for  me  who 
hooked  a  certain  lady's  pocketbook  last  Thursday  aft- 
ernoon over  in  Hooper's  store."  He  went  on  to  de- 
scribe the  lady  and  the  purse  from  the  information 
given  him  by  the  chief. 

"What'll  ye  give?"  said  Jem,  after  he  had  heard 
sufficient. 

"I'll  give  you  ten  dollars,"  Jack  answered. 

"Hookey!"  Jem  exclaimed,  "that's  more'n  there 
was  in  it.  There  was  only  four  dollars  and  some 
cents  in  it.  What  you  want  to  know  for  ?" 

"Oh,  that  makes  no  difference,  so's  I  find  out,"  was 
the  reply. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,  'cause  they  won't  give  a  fellow 
more  than  ten  days  fur  that.  Where's  yer  money  ?" 

"Right  here,"  Jack  answered,  showing  two  five 
dollar  bills.  "But  I  want  proof.  When  you  show 
me  where  the  pocketbook  can  be  found  safe  I'll  give 
you  five  and  when  we  have  the  thief  in  limbo  I'll  give 
you  tLa  other  five.  You  know  me,  Jem,  an'  what  I 
say  I'll  do." 

"Nuff  said,  Jack,  here's  the  thing,  gimme  the  fiver," 
was  Jem's  ready  response. 

"What,  did  you  take  it  ?"  queried  Jack,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"Sure  thing,  an'  'twas  dead  easy.  Gimme  the 
fiver." 

Jack  did  so  and  received  the  purse  in  return.  He 
started  back  in  high  glee  to  report  to  the  chief.  Jem 

117 


PLUCK 

was  hauled  in  and  confessed;  his  sentence,  however, 
was  somewhat  of  a  surprise  to  him,  as  he  got  thirty 
days  instead  of  the  anticipated  ten,  while  Jack  got 
his  place  on  the  force  as  a  regular  employee,  though 
at  very  small  wages.  He  managed  to  slip  Jem  the 
last  of  the  two  five-dollar  bills  and  went  home  happy. 
Phillip,  too,  made  a  change.  One  day  he  was 
offered  a  job  as  clerk  in  a  grocery  store,  at  a  salary 
which  looked  large  to  him  until  he  found  out  his 
duties;  then  it  looked  small  enough.  He  had  re- 
served two  hours  in  the  evening  for  study  when  he 
hired  out  for  a  six  months'  term;  but  found  he  was 
expected  to  make  them  up  by  work  earlier  in  the 
morning.  At  five  o'clock  he  was  obliged  to  be  at 
hand  to  sweep  the  store  and  help  arrange  the  goods ; 
after  that,  and  until  seven  at  night,  it  was  a  constant 
rush,  with  but  half  an  hour  for  each  meal — doing  up 
packages,  delivering,  waiting  on  customers,  unpack- 
ing goods  and  the  like,  until  his  back  ached.  But  he 
stuck  it  out;  and  when  spring  came  again  he  was 
richer  in  knowledge  of  humankind,  and  in  dollars. 
His  employer  was  kind,  but  strict  and  sharp  as  a 
whip.  He  insisted  on  promptness  and  absolute  obe- 
dience. He  wanted  the  services  of  the  brain  of  his 
employees  as  well  as  their  hands  and  muscles,  and 
when  he  saw  Phillip's  readiness  and  application  to 
duty,  he  relieved  him  of  many  worse  jobs  to  detail 
him  for  waiting  on  customers.  Nor  did  he  lose  by 
it.  Phillip's  ever  pleasant  face,  cheerful  smile  and 
quick  perception  of  his  customers'  wishes  soon  made 
him  a  favorite. 

118 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

At  the  end  of  the  six  months  his  employer  offered 
to  re-engage  him  for  a  year  at  an  advance  in  salary, 
and  Phillip  was  debating  in  his  mind  whether  or  not 
to  accept,  when  an  incident  happened  that  changed 
all  his  present  plans,  and  probably  his  future  career. 

He  was  now  nearly  fifteen  years  of  age  and  had 
been  in  New  York  City  almost  four  years.  While 
the  noteworthy  incidents  of  his  experience  there  had 
been  few,  he  had  learned  a  vast  number  of  things. 
He  could  speak  the  English  language  readily  and 
possessed  a  fair  general  education.  He  had  come  in 
contact  with  thousands  of  people  and  observed  their 
manners  and  to  some  extent  their  character.  Preju- 
diced against  Americans  by  his  experience  imme- 
diately upon  his  arrival  in  their  country,  he  had, 
nevertheless,  learned  to  respect  them  most  of  all.  Al- 
though he  could  not  understand  how  a  people  so  gen- 
erous and  charitable  could  allow  the  poor  at  their 
own  door  to  suffer  hunger  and  cold,  it  thrilled  him 
with  admiration  to  see  their  quick  and  lavish  re- 
sponse to  the  call  of  distress,  which  a  flood,  or  famine, 
or  disaster  of  any  kind  had  caused  in  this  country  or 
elsewhere.  He  admired  their  energy,  shrewdness  and 
enterprise;  and  since  he  had  learned  some  of  the 
history  of  this  country,  that  record  of  past  heroic 
deeds,  he  had  unbounded  faith  in  America  and  its 
future.  He  knew  well  the  haunts  and  habits  of  the 
lowly,  but  he  had  also  seen  much  of  the  life  of  the 
great  or  wealthy ;  he  had  been  on  the  stock  exchange, 
had  even  gambled  once  in  a  poolroom  to  his  sorrow ; 
had  watched  with  keen  interest  the  active  life  of  the 
great  banking  institutions,  the  custom  house,  the 

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shipping ;  and  many  of  the  massive  commercial  estab- 
lishments were  no  strangers  to  him.  As  a  newsboy 
for  over  three  years  he  had  ready  access  everywhere, 
and  his  quick  observation  stored  much  valuable  in- 
formation in  his  memory.  Once  he  had  even  wit- 
nessed an  execution  through  the  favor  of  a  deputy 
sheriff;  and  when  he  saw  the  awful  distortion  of  the 
features  of  the  victim  in  his  death-struggle,  and  real- 
ized that  the  life  that  God  had  placed  in  this  body 
was  thus  forcibly  expelled  in  punishment  for  crime,  it 
made  an  impression  that  could  never  fade ;  nor  did  he 
ever  feel  desire  to  attend  at  another  such  occasion. 

His  judgment  was  ripening  early  and  his  physical 
development  kept  pace.  At  fifteen  he  was  the  pic- 
ture of  a  healthy,  symmetrical  youth,  with  a  face  like 
the  index  of  a  good  heart. 

He  had  not  been  an  entire  stranger  to  all  the  vices 
of  youth.  Early  he  learned  to  smoke,  and  could 
drink  his  beer  with  a  relish ;  but  economy  rarely  per- 
mitted him  to  indulge,  and  his  early  training,  com- 
bined with  an  inward  restraint  of  his  nature,  had 
steered  him  clear  from  many  other  temptations.  True, 
he  drifted  somewhat  from  the  good  precepts  of  his 
childhood;  he  rarely  went  to  Sunday  service  and  he 
sometimes  forgot  his  evening  prayers;  but  is  it  to 
be  wondered  at  when  we  consider  the  surroundings 
into  which  he  had  fallen  and  the  society  in  which  his 
lot  was  cast?  Some  day  his  early  teachings  would 
come  back  again  with  renewed  strength  and  influence ; 
the  day  would  come  when  he  would  fall  on  his  knees 
in  grateful  prayer  to  the  God  that  had  guided  and 
watched  over  him  through  a  stormy  life  of  danger — 

120 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

for  the  seed  sown  in  the  human  heart  by  the  mother's 
hand  retains  its  life  principle  to  the  grave,  and  often 
germinates  only  after  the  winter  frosts  of  life  have 
passed,  and  the  threshold  of  eternity  confronts  the 
weary  wanderer,  and  at  all  times,  though  apparently 
lifeless,  it  sends  a  fragrance  forth  to  beautify  the 
world  and  influence  men's  actions. 

The  praise  of  God  remained  in  Phillip's  heart, 
though  he  rarely  heard  His  holy  word,  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  honor  remained  which  his  father  had  taught 
him.  Honesty,  industry  and  economy  were  elemental 
in  his  nature,  and  he  could  not  see  departure  from 
either  in  others  without  experiencing  a  shock. 

He  had  saved  enough  now  to  pay  back  Mr.  Gross 
the  hundred  dollars  and  had  recently  sent  his  par- 
ents fifty  dollars  more.  At  the  same  time  he  had 
paid  his  schooling  and  kept  himself  neatly  dressed. 

This,  briefly,  was  his  situation  on  the  Sunday,  the 
day  before  his  six  months'  time  expired  with  the 
grocer. 

He  spent  most  of  the  forenoon  wandering  about 
Central  Park,  his  favorite  Sunday  resort,  and  was 
proceeding  down  Fifth  Avenue  toward  the  new  Art 
Museum,  which  had  just  been  thrown  open  to  the 
public,  when  he  met  Sammy  Dornbush  walking  alone 
and  looking  pale  and  sad.  He  accosted  him  with : 

"Hello,  Sam,  where're  you  going?"  Then  notic- 
ing his  mournful  look,  added,  "What,  got  the  blues  ?" 

"Yes,  Phil,"  Sammy  replied,  "mamma  is  very 
sick.  Mrs.  Walther,  our  kind  neighbor,  is  with  her 
now  and  she  made  me  go  out  to  get  some  fresh  air. 
The  air  is  so  close  at  home,"  and  he  sighed  and  looked 

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so  wearied  that  Phillip  passed  his  arm  for  a  moment 
around  his  friend  with  the  impulse  to  support  him. 

"I  will  help  you  to-night,  so  that  you  can  get  some 
rest,"  he  said,  sympathetically.  "Come  sit  down  and 
tell  me  when  this  last  attack  began,"  and  Phillip  led 
the  way  to  the  edge  of  a  green  lawn  adjoining  the 
walk,  where  they  sat  down  on  the  grass,  in  the  shade 
of  a  tree. 

Sammy  related  how  his  mother  had  taken  to  her 
bed  again  three  days  ago,  and  that  the  doctor  whom  he 
called  in  said  she  needed  strengthening  food,  but  that 
no  medicine  could  help  her.  His  father  was  serving 
a  ten  days'  term  in  jail  for  participating  in  a  drunken 
riot,  and  he,  himself,  could  not  leave  his  mother's 
bedside  to  go  to  earn  sonie  money. 

Phillip  offered  to  help  him  and  gave  him  most  of 
the  little  change  he  had  with  him.  He  could  not  do 
much  more,  however,  than  keep  them  from  positive 
want,  while  he  realized  that  good  nursing  alone  might 
here  be  able  to  help.  But  he  had  not  the  means  to 
provide  a  nurse,  and  a  deep  pity  filled  his  heart. 

"To  think,"  Sammy  finally  burst  forth  bitterly, 
"that  there  are  thousands  of  people  in  this  city  who 
have  so  much  more  wealth  than  they  know  what  to 
do  with,  while  my  poor  mother  is  starving.  That 
lady,"  pointing  to  one  in  a  stylish  turnout  fondling 
a  pet  dog,  while  the  liveried  coachman  guided  a  pair 
of  handsome  steeds  between  the  crowding  carriages, 
"surely  lavishes  more  on  that  cur  than  would  keep 
my  poor  mother  from  suffering.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could 
make  them  give  up  some  of  their  wealth  to  help  the 
poor!" 

122 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

Phillip  did  not  contradict  him.  At  that  moment 
he  felt  with  Sammy  that  there  was  some  injustice 
somewhere ;  but  he  knew  no  remedy.  He  was,  there- 
fore, silent  for  a  few  minutes,  thinking  of  how  he 
could  cheer  his  friend. 

Finally  he  said,  ''Well,  if  you  have  rested  let's  go 
down  to  a  restaurant  and  get  something  to  eat,  it  is 
nearly  one  o'clock ;  I'll  pay  the  bill." 

Sammy  had  not  eaten  much  that  day  and  readily 
accepted  the  offer.  They  proceeded  to  the  nearest 
cheap  restaurant  and  had  their  dinners.  After  dinner 
Phillip  proposed  that  they  visit  the  new  museum, 
which  was  open  until  four  o'clock,  and  then  it  would 
be  time  for  Sammy  to  return  home. 

They  had  been  walking  about  in  the  spacious  apart- 
ments, viewing  the  beautiful  paintings  and  marble 
statuary  for  some  time,  when  Sammy  laid  his  hand 
on  Philip's  arm,  and  whispered  to  him  to  observe  the 
handsomely  dressed  lady  standing  a  short  distance 
from  them. 

Phillip  looked  in  the  direction  indicated,  but  saw 
nothing  unusual  in  the  lady's  appearance. 

"See,  see,  it's  falling,"  the  lad  whispered  excitedly ; 
"that  will  save  mother,"  and  before  Phillip  could 
realize  it  Sammy  darted  away  from  him  to  where  the 
lady  had  stood  a  moment  before,  stooped  to  the  floor 
to  pick  up  something,  and  started  for  the  door. 

Phillip  just  caught  the  flash  of  a  glittering  object 
lying  on  the  floor  before  Sammy's  hand  closed  on  it, 
and  he  rushed  after  his  friend  and  caught  him  just  as 
he  was  about  to  descend  the  outer  steps  leading  to  the 

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sidewalk.  He  seized  him  my  the  arm  to  stop  him  and 
said: 

"Sammy,  what  have  you  done;  this  is  stealing — 
let  me  have  it  and  I'll  return  it" ;  and  he  took  the 
object  from  the  culprit's  hand. 

"Oh,  I  could  not  help  it — I  only  thought  of  mother 
— the  lady  could  spare  it  and  it  would  have  helped 
mother  so  much,"  Sammy  answered,  while  a  deep 
flush  of  shame  suffused  his  usually  pale  face. 

Phillip  stood  looking,  for  a  moment,  at  the  glitter- 
ing diamond  brooch  he  held  in  his  hand;  it  must 
have  cost  a  great  sum  of  money.  Presently  he  heard 
a  commotion  inside,  and  the  cry  of  "Stop  the  thief" 
reached  him. 

"Quick,  Sammy,  run!  Don't  let  them  catch  you, 
you  must  get  home !"  he  urged. 

The  latter  needed  no  further  urging  than  the 
thoughts  the  word  "home"  suggested — he  was  needed 
there.  He  sped  down  the  steps  and  dashed  along  the 
street  to  the  nearest  corner,  where  he  turned  and  was 
lost  to  sight. 

His  friend,  still  holding  the  brooch  in  his  right 
hand,  was  standing  at  the  top  of  the  steps  near  the 
door  and  looking  in  the  direction  in  which  Sammy  had 
fled,  when  the  door  burst  open  and  a  guard  rushed 
out.  Instantly  he  found  himself  seized  and  forced 
back  into  the  gallery. 

"Here  is  the  thief,"  the  guard  exclaimed ;  "I  saw 
him  run  to  the  door;  and  here  are  the  diamonds !"  he 
added,  as  he  unclasped  Phillip's  hand  and  took  the 
brooch. 

The  lady  took  her  ornament,  at    the    same    time 

124 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

measuring  the  young  man  with  a  look  of  intense  dis- 
dain. Her  face  seemed  familiar,  and  in  a  moment 
he  recalled  that  he  had  seen  her  several  times,  while 
she  was  waiting  in  her  carriage  for  her  servant  to 
make  some  trifling  purchase  at  his  employer's  store. 
She,  too,  recognized  him,  but,  as  it  turned  out  later, 
to  his  sorrow. 

A  policeman  was  promptly  called  and  the  guard  in- 
formed him  of  the  affair.  None  knew  whether  the 
brooch  had  fallen  and  been  picked  up  by  the  thief  or 
had  been  taken  direct  from  the  person  of  the  lady. 

Phillip  did  not  at  first  intend  to  explain,  but  when 
he  felt  certain  that  Sammy  had  made  good  his  escape, 
he  endeavored  to  convince  the  policeman  and  guard 
of  the  true  facts  without  mentioning  his  friend's 
name,  as  he  had  no  desire  to  spend  a  term  in  prison. 

His  captors,  however,  gave  no  credence  to  his  words. 
He  had  been  practically  caught  in  the  act,  and  his 
story  was  an  invention.  .  He  was  ordered  to  come 
along  peaceably  or  he  would  be  taken  by  force. 

Phillip  now  realized  that  he  was  in  desperate 
straits,  and  for  a  moment  almost  regretted  his  inter- 
ference. Conviction  meant  disgrace,  loss  of  position, 
and  sorrow  to  his  friends,  to  say  nothing  of  the  forced 
companionship  of  felons  for  many  months. 

Unconsciously  his  hand  touched  his  pocketbook,  and 
with  it  came  the  recollection  of  a  little  treasure  he 
had  kept  and  constantly  carried  as  a  souvenir  of  his 
first  adventure  in  America.  It  was  the  card  the 
Superintendent  of  Police  had  given  him  four  years 
ago  when  acting  under  an  impulse  of  kindness. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  he  said,  and    reached    in    his 

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pocket.  He  found  the  card,  carefully  wrapped  in  pa- 
per, in  a  separate  compartment  of  his  pocketbook.  It 
was  somewhat  bent,  but  little  soiled,  and  plainly  still 
could  be  read  the  words : 

"Police  officers  will  promptly  communicate  to  me 
any  request  made  by  the  bearer  hereof 

(Signed.)       John  Parker,  Sup't  of  Police." 

Phillip  handed  it  to  the  policeman,  who  slowly  read 
it  while  his  prisoner  demanded,  "I  request  that  you 
take  me  straight  to  the  Superintendent." 

The  policeman  looked  at  Phillip,  then  again  at  the 
card.  Finally  he  called  the  guard  back  and  showed 
it  to  him. 

"He  probably  stole  that,  too,"  was  the  latter's  opin- 
ion. 

"If  I  did  would  I  request  to  be  taken  before  the 
Superintendent  to  expose  the  theft  ?"  was  the  prompt 
rejoinder. 

That  argument  was  unanswerable.  Parker  had  the 
reputation  of  enforcing  strict  obedience  to  his  orders ; 
and  if  the  order  was  genuine  it  might  mean  dismissal 
to  refuse  compliance,  and  the  fact  that  the  prisoner 
requested  to  be  taken  into  the  very  presence  of  the 
Superintendent  indicated  that  such  was  the  case. 

With  far  more  courtesy,  therefore,  the  policeman 
declared  his  willingness  to  conduct  our  young  friend 
to  the  chief,  and  the  two  were  soon  on  their  way  to 
headquarters. 

Before  they  arrived  there  the  policeman  said  that  it 
was  unlikely  that  the  Superintendent  would  be  at  his 
office,  this  being  Sunday  afternoon,  and  suggested 
that  they  proceed  direct  to  his  residence  if  Phillip  felt 

126 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

certain  of  the  nature  of  his  reception ;  otherwise  they 
had  better  wait  until  next  morning,  as  the  Superin- 
tendent did  not  like  to  be  annoyed  with  business  at 
his  home. 

The  answer  was  a  prompt  request  to  be  taken  to 
the  Superintendent's  residence — the  prisoner  would 
take  the  consequences  upon  himself. 

When  they  arrived  there  they  found  that  the  Super- 
intendent had  just  returned  from  a  drive  and  retired 
to  the  library. 

The  policeman  left  Phillip  in  charge  of  the  foot- 
man in  the  hallway  and  proceeded  to  deliver  the  card 
and  communicate  the  request. 

He  returned  after  an  absence  of  a  few  minutes  and 
directed  the  young  man  to  accompany  him  to  the 
library. 

When  they  entered  the  Superintendent  sat  at  his 
desk  scrutinizing  the  card  and  evidently  endeavoring 
to  recall  when  and  to  whom  he  had  given  it.  It  was 
his  handwriting  and  his  signature — but  he  could  not 
remember  anything  connected  with  it. 

He  turned  after  a  moment  and  looked  sharply  at 
Phillip  standing  near  the  door ;  finally  he  spoke : 

"Come  forward ;  where  did  you  get  this  card  ?" 

"You  gave  it  to  me  four  years  ago,  sir,"  was  the 
respectful  answer. 

"What  is  your  name  ?" 

"Phillip  Bertram." 

The  Superintendent  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a 
moment,  trying  to  recall  the  face,  then  brightening, 
exclaimed :  "Why,  sir,  I  think  I  remember  you  now. 
Are  you  not  the  little  'Dutchman'  who  was  lost  and 

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PLUCK 

whom  a  gentleman  from  Philadelphia — let  me  see, 
what  was  his  name — Gross,  yes,  Peter  Gross,  got  us 
to  search  for  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,'"'  Philip  answered,  "and  yon  gave  me 
that  card  the  day  I  called  at  your  office." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  remember  now.  Sit  down.  The  po- 
liceman has  just  informed  me  that  you  are  under  ar- 
rest on  a  most  serious  charge  and  the  circumstances 
look  black  against  you.  I  am  willing  to  hear  your 
explanation,  for  I  should  be  sorry  to  learn  you  had 
gone  wrong." 

Phillip  proceeded  to  truthfully  relate  all  that  had 
taken  place  at  the  museum,  without,  however,  men- 
tioning Sammy's  name.  And  he  did  more,  he  told  the 
motive  thui  prompted  the  act  and  the  home  circum- 
stances of  his  friend  which  gave  birth  to  the  motive. 
"Do  not  punish  my  friend,"  he  pleaded,  "his  mother 
has  no  one  else  to  support  her  or  wait  on  her  in  her 
sickness.  I  never  knew  him  to  be  dishonest  before, 
and  I  don't  think  he  will  be  again.  He  acted  under 
the  impulse  of  the  moment  and  to  help  his  mother ; 
and,  sir,"  he  added,  almost  defiantly,  "I  would  steal 
myself  to  keep  my  mother  from  starving !" 

The  Superintendent  made  no  reply  for  a  moment ; 
a  fellow  feeling  for  human  suffering  may  have  caused 
him  to  think  that  perhaps  the  young  man's  sentiments 
were  not  so  wholly  wrong.  Finally  he  began  to  ques- 
tion Phillip  minutely  as  to  his  doings  during  the  last 
four  years,  and  was  soon  in  possession  of  the  young 
man's  little  history  and  a  pretty  good  knowledge  of 
his  friends.  He  had  no  need  to  ask  the  friend's  name 
who  took  the  brooch — he  sufficiently  recognized  him 

128 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

as  Sammy  Dornbush ;  but  he  did  not  intend  to  make 
use  of  this  knowledge. 

When  he  had  concluded  the  examination  he  ex- 
tended his  hand,  and  at  the  same  time  returned  the 
card,  saying: 

"Keep  this,  my  young  friend,  and  never  hesitate 
to  use  it  when  you  need  my  help.  I  am  glad  that  I 
can  still  retain  my  good  opinion  of  you." 

Then,  turning  to  the  policeman,  he  said:  "This 
young  man  is  released,  and  you  will  drop  the  inquiry 
into  the  affair." 

Phillip  thanked  him  warmly  and  turned  to  go, 
when  the  Superintendent  again  spoke : 

"By  the  way,  your  coming  here  reminds  me  that 
the  money  for  your  trip  to  Philadelphia  is  still  on 
deposit.  I  might  as  well  put  it  in  your  charge  now, 
I  know  you  won't  squander  it."  He  looked  for  a  few 
moments  among  the  papers  in  his  desk  and  pulled 
out  a  certificate  of  deposit,  and  endorsing  it  over  to 
Phillip,  handed  it  to  him. 

"Do  you  ever  hear  from  Mr.  Gross  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,  once  in  a  great  Avhile.  He  is  well  and 
intends  to  retire  from  business." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  good  of  him ;  a  very  fine 
old  gentleman." 

He  shook  hands  with  Phillip  again  when  he  left 
and  reminded  him  of  the  card.  But  the  latter  never 
had  occasion  to  make  use  of  it  after  that,  although  to 
his  last  day  it  rested  among  the  little  treasures  in  his 
home  which  derived  their  chief  value  from  the  mem- 
ories with  Avhich  they  were  associated. 

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When  our  young  friend  reached  Gramna  O'Don- 
nell's  it  was  supper  time.  Jack  had  just  returned 
and  was  delighting  the  old  lady  with  the  recital  of  his 
week's  adventures — many  of  them  imaginary — in 
helping  to  trace  down  criminals.  Mrs.  O'Donnell  had 
grown  stout  and  slow  of  motion  during  the  last  few 
years.  She  had  ceased  to  threaten  Jack  with  his 
bringing  her  to  the  grave;  in  fact,  she  was  growing 
immensely  proud  of  her  ambitious  grandson.  She 
approved  generally  of  all  he  did  and  nothing  gave  her 
more  pleasure  than  to  hear  him  relate  his  imaginary 
blood-curdling  adventures. 

While  eating  supper  Phillip  told  them  of  Mrs. 
Dornbush's  severe  illness  and  of  his  intention  of  sit- 
ting up  with  her  that  night;  but  he  said  nothing  of 
the  afternoon's  adventure.  Jack  said  he  would  walk 
over  with  him  and  stay  a  little  while  for  company. 

They  met  the  doctor  coming  out  of  the  house  and 
asked  him  about  his  patient's  condition. 

"I  do  not  think  she  will  live  through  the  night.  She 
is  sinking  fast ;  and  she  will  be  better  off  when  she's 
gone,"  was  his  quiet  reply. 

The  boys  were  shocked,  because  they  had  not 
thought  the  situation  so  grave.  They  entered  and 
found  Sammy  alone  with  his  mother.  He  was  kneel- 
ing at  her  bedside  and  weeping  bitterly.  Mrs.  Dorn- 
bush  seemed  asleep  or  unconscious. 

When  Sammy  saw  the  boys  he  arose  and  beckoned 
them  to  rude  chairs.  Then  he  told  them  in  a  whis- 
per what  they  already  knew  from  the  doctor.  The 
little  fellow  bore  up  bravely,  but  some  hidden  grief 
seemed  to  weigh  him  down. 

130 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

After  a  few  minutes  he  motioned  Phillip  to  come 
outdoors  with  him,  and  when  they  were  out  and  the 
door  closed,  he  besought  his  friend  in  a  subdued  and 
imploring  voice : 

"Don't  tell  her,  Phillip.  It  was  my  only  crime, 
and  shall  be  my  last.  I  did  it  for  her,  but  you  see  it 
would  have  been  useless.  You  won't  tell  her,  will 
you  ?"  he  pleaded  eagerly. 

"Never,"  Phillip  answered;  "nor  will  I  tell  any- 
one else,  and  no  one  will  ever  know  unless  you  tell 
it  yourself." 

Sammy  pressed  his  hand  and  silently  they  re-en- 
tered the  room. 

Presently  they  heard  the  feeble  voice  of  the  sick 
woman:  "Sammy,"  and  quickly  he  went  to  her  side 
and  bent  over  her. 

"Sammy,  I'm  going  to  leave  you,  my  son.  Don't 
cry  for  me.  I  could  not  bear  it  longer  here.  Be  good, 
be  honest,  my  boy,  and  God  will  take  care  of  you. 
Kiss  me,"  and  her  voice  grew  fainter;  "you  have 
been  so  good  to  me — God  bless  you,"  she  breathed, 
as  he  bent  over  her  to  bestow  a  kiss  upon  her  dying 
lips. 

The  boys  had  risen  and  silently  approached  the 
bedside.  Once  more  the  lids  that  had  almost  closed 
opened — she  saw  her  son's  two  faithful  friends — 
"You  will  not  desert  him  ?"  she  whispered. 

"No,  no,"  came  the  subdued,  but  earnest  answer 
from  both. 

For  a  moment  a  sweet  smile  lit  up  her  face,  then 
there  was  a  flutter  of  the  breath,  a  slight  tremor  of 

131 


PLUCK 

the  body  and  the  lids  fell  partly  over  the  glassy  eyes — 
the  soul  had  fled. 

Weeping  the  boys  led  Sammy  to  a  chair.  Jack 
called  Mrs.  Walther,  whose  kind  heart  had  lightened 
many  sorrowful  hours  for  the  deceased,  and  she  un- 
dertook to  attend  to  the  duties  which  she  could  best 
perform.  Jack  persuaded  Sammy  to  go  home  with 
him,  while  Phillip  remained  to  assist  Mrs.  Walther 
during  the  night. 

The  funeral  was  held  next  day.  In  the  crowded 
districts  of  the  poor,  with  no  means  of  staying  rapid 
disintegration,  health  regulation  made  speedy  burial 
a  necessity.  The  mourners  were  few,  consisting  of 
our  three  young  friends,  Mrs.  Walther  and  a  few 
neighbors ;  but  the  tears  that  fell  upon  her  grave  were 
born  of  grief  more  sincere  and  love  more  true  than 
many  a  petted  child  of  wealth  and  fortune  ever  left 
behind. 

"Now,  Sammy,"  Jack  said  on  the  way  back  from 
the  funeral,  "you  get  your  duds  and  come  with  us; 
until  you  can  find  some  other  place  we  three  can 
manage  in  one  bed,  even  if  it  is  crowded.  I  don't  sup- 
pose you  want  to  keep  on  supplying  your  father  with 
whisky  money  now?" 

"No,"  said  Sammy,  whose  ideas  of  filial  duty  did 
not  go  so  far  as  to  make  him  believe  that  he  must 
continue  to  supply  his  father  with  the  means  to  nour- 
ish his  vice;  he  had  heretofore  borne  the  cruelties 
of  this  unnatural  parent  in  silence  for  his  mother's 
sake,  whom  he  loved,  but  now  that  she  wos  gone  he 
felt  no  tie  binding  him  to  his  former  home.  He, 
therefore,  gladly  accepted  Jack's  oifer. 

132 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

The  next  morning,  Tuesday,  Phillip  returned  to 
his  work.  He  had  about  made  up  his  mind  to  accept 
his  employer's  offer,  and  also  to  ask  for  a  place  for 
Sammy.  Mr.  Carson  was  in  his.  office,  and  looked 
up  in  surprise  when  Phillip  entered. 

"Well,  sir,  what  do  you  want  ?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  accept  your  offer,  and  to  ask  you  to  give  a  young 
friend  of  mine  employment  as  delivery  boy ;  he  is  well 
acquainted  and  not  lazy,"  Phillip  answered. 

"I  have  no  further  use  for  you  and  your  friends, 
and  must  say  that  I  am  surprised  to  see  you  back  so 
soon,"  was  Mr.  Carson's  cold  answer. 

Phillip  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it;  then  the 
explanation  dawned  upon  him:  Some  one  must  have 
told  Mr.  Carson  of  his  trouble  on  Sunday,  the  recol- 
lection of  which  the  sad  event  of  the  night  and  day 
following  had  nearly  driven  from  his  mind,  and  his 
thoughts  reverted  to  the  lady. 

"I  suppose  you  have  been  told  that  I  was  a  thief 
and  expected  me  to  be  serving  a  term  in  prison  now  ?" 
he  said,  with  some  bitterness. 

"I  confess  such  are  the  facts,"  was  the  short  an- 
swer. 

"Does  not  my  presence  here  indicate  that  I  was  in- 
nocent of  the  charge  ?" 

"May  it  not  also  indicate  that  you  succeeded  in 
escaping  from  the  officer  ?" 

"If  you  will  hear  my  explanation  I  can  satisfy  you 
of  the  contrary,"  Phillip  replied. 

133 


PLUCK 

"Well,  I  am  willing  to  believe  the  contrary  with- 
out explanation,  because  I  have  always  found  you 
honest  in  my  business,  and  because  my  judgment  tells 
me  you  could  hardly  be  guilty  of  crime  without  strong 
inducement.  However,  that  does  not  alter  the  situa- 
tion. I  must  either  discharge  you  or  lose  the  patron- 
age of  that  lady  and  of  a  large  number  of  her  wealthy 
friends." 

Phillip  thought  for  a  moment  of  calling  on  the  lady 
and  explaining  it  all  to  her;  but  his  pride  rebelled. 
If  she  had  already  judged  him  unheard,  he  would  not 
humiliate  himself  to  attempt  a  defense. 

He,  therefore,  took  the  check  which  Mr.  Carson 
handed  him  in  payment  of  the  balance  of  wages  due 
him,  and  left  the  onice^  and  store  with  the  bitterness 
of  unmerited  injury  in  his  heart. 

Slowly  and  without  a  thought  of  whither  he  was 
going,  he  walked  along  the  busy  streets.  He  did  not 
know  what  to  turn  to  next.  He  had  no  inclination  to 
go  back  to  selling  newspapers  and  blacking  shoes ;  he 
was  too  big  and  strong  a  boy  for  that  now ;  he  could 
read  and  write  and  had  a  fair  education  in  general ; 
he  must  find  employment  of  some  other  kind. 

Thus,  thinking  over  the  situation,  he  had  walked 
for  a  long  time  when  he  became  aware  that  he  was 
approaching  his  favorite  haunt  in  Central  Park, 
whither  his  feet  had  mechanically  carried  him.  He 
sat  down  upon  one  of  the  benches,  sad  at  heart  and 
gloomy  of  thought. 

A  squirrel  came  and  jumped  on  his  knee,  expect- 
ing the  usual  treat  of  a  few  nuts.  Phillip  felt  in  his 
pockets,  but  found  none ;  he  had  not  expected  to  come 

134 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

here  to-day.  His  little  friend  coaxed,  smelled  of 
his  hands,  poked  its  head  down  the  empty  coat 
pockets,  and,  finding  nothing,  started  in  search  «  f 
acorns  or  stray  morsels  dropped  by  visitors.  Finally 
it  foimd  something,  and  scampering  up  the  nearest 
tree,  sat  on  a  limb  and  began  to  eat. 

Phillip  watched  it  for  some  time;  then  his  loJc 
drifted  to  the  tree ;  there  was  a  wealth  of  green  foliage 
catching  the  warm  sunshine  and  gently  swaying  \n 
the  breeze;  he  looked  about  him — all  nature  seemed 
to  have  responded  with  gratitude  to  the  welcome  sun- 
shine of  spring  and  bedecked  herself  with  richest 
robe  to  meet  the  advancing  summer.  Other  thoughts 
took  possession  of  our  friend.  Vividly  the  little  vil- 
lage in  the  midst  of  timber-mantled  hills  lay  before 
his  vision.  He  saw  again  the  little  home  across  the 
sea,  the  father  and  the  mother  standing  in  the  door- 
way, with  love  speaking  from  every  look,  the  little 
comrades  of  his  boyhood  clustering  about  him — and 
he  felt  a  great  longing  come  over  him.  Oh,  what 
would  he  not  give  if  he  could  see  them  all  again,  if  he 
v-oi;M  transport  himself  on  the  instant  back  to  that 
day  of  parting !  And  would  he,  if  he  had  it  all  to  do 
over  again,  would  ho  leave  them  as  he  had  done  be- 
fore ? 

He  hesitated — then  the  answer  came:  Yes,  he 
would !  Father  and  mother  had  not  suffered  want 
since,  because  he  had  helped  them;  and  what  had 
he  to  complain  of — had  he  suffered  want  or  hunger  ? 
'No  I  On  the  contrary  he  had  prospered — had  fallen 
in  with  more  kind  people  than  unkind — had  been 
happy  oftener  than  unhappy.  He  had  had  troubles 

135 


PLUCK 

but  they  never  overwhelmed  him;  and  he  thought 
again  of  his  father's  words  with  which  he  himself 
had  overcome  the  latter's  resistance  to  his  departure : 
"Gott  verlaesst  die  Seinen  nie !" 

What  though  he  had  lost  his  situation!  Had  he 
not  started  out  when  younger  in  years  and  exper- 
ience, with  the  determination  to  make  his  way  in 
the  world,  and  had  he  not  many  times  since  felt  the 
conviction  that  he  could  overcome  all  difficulties  if  he 
but  would !  Again  he  felt  that  self-confidence  com- 
ing over  him  which  gave  him  the  victory  over  Jack  in 
their  fistic  encounter  at  the  Fourth  of  July  picnic, 
and  he  arose  with  the  blood  warming  through  his 
veins. 

As  he  stood  there  a  new  thought  came  to  him.  How 
long  had  he  not  yearned  for  the  green  fields  and 
mighty  forests  of  the  west,  which  the  Tribune  had 
so  often  pictured  to  its  readers.  Why  not  take  the 
advice  of  its  noble  editor  and  go  west  now.  At  some 
time  he  had  always  intended  to  go.  Independence  and 
fortune  awaited  the  industrious,  Mr.  Greeley  wrote, 
and  Phillip  believed  him. 

His  resolution  was  formed:  He  would  visit  Mr. 
Gross  first  and  then  strike  out  for  Ohio,  or  possibly 
Michigan  or  Wisconsin.  Sammy  should  go  with  him 
until  he  could  find  steady  employment.  He  mentally 
calculated  the  amount  of  his  funds  and  found  he  had 
sufficient  for  his  purposes,  that  is,  to  pay  his  own  and 
Sammy's  fare  to  Philadelphia  and  for  some  distance 
farther  west. 

With  head  erect  and  a  new  light  in  the  eye  he  pro- 
ceeded home.  It  was  not  quite  noon  and  Jack  and 

136 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

Sammy  had  not  yet  returned.  Grandma  O'Donnell 
was  busy  getting  dinner,  and  was  surprised  at  his 
early  appearance. 

"Ah !  phat  brings  yez  home  so  airly ;  sure  an' 
phat  appitite  ye  byes  do  have !"  she  said,  assuming  her 
own  explanation  to  be  correct. 

"Granma,"  Phillip  said,  "how  much  of  my  money 
are  you  keeping  for  me  now?" 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  him  in  great  surprise. 

"An'  is  it  afraid  ye  be  that  Oi'll  shquander  it?" 
she  bristled  up.  "If  yer  afraid  why  don't  ye  kape 
it  yersilf  or  put  it  in  a  bank  an'  let  the  cashier  shtale 
it?" 

"Why,  granma,  you  mustn't  get  mad ;  I  know  my 
money  is  perfectly  safe  with  you;  but  I  need  it  all 
now,  because  I'm  going  to  leave  the  city,  I'm  going 
out  west." 

The  bowl  of  boiled  potatoes  the  old  lady  was  about 
to  place  on  the  table  came  down  with  a  thump,  while 
she  threw  up  both  hands  and  sank  down  in  a  chair. 

"Goin'  to  lave  the  city — goin'  out  wist !"  she  echoed, 
and  looked  at  Phillip  as  much  astonished  as  though 
he  had  been  suddenly  transformed  into  a  mountain. 
But  she  recovered  quickly,  and  her  apron  came  to 
her  face,  while  she  swayed  her  fat  body  from  side  to 
side,  moaning  out  her  grief. 

"Ah,  me  bye — to  think  yez  would  lave  yer  oukl 
granma  all  alone  in  the  worruld  with  no  wan  to  sup- 
port and  comfort  her,  afther  me  bein'  so  koind  to 
yez,  and  tindin'  yez  loike  me  own  baby !  Don't  ye  do 
it,  Phillip!  Shtay  with  me,  don't  lave  yer  ould 

137 


PLUCK 

granma !"  and  the  affection  that  showed  in  voice  and 
words  made  tears  come  to  Phillip's  eyes. 

He  threw  his  arms  around  her  neck  and  kissed  the 
kind  old  soul  while  he  said : 

"But,  granma,  you  won't  be  alone ;  Jack  will  stay 
and  take  care  of  you.  And  just  think  what  a  great 
man  he  will  be  and  what  a  great  name  he  will  have, 
and  how  proud  you'll  be  of  him." 

He  touched  the  right  key.  She  lowered  her  apron, 
and,  while  the  tears  were  yet  wet  on  her  cheeks,  a 
smile  of  pleasure  spread  o'er  her  face. 

"Yis,  faith,  an'  I  had  forgotten.  It's  a  great  man 
Jack  is,  an'  a  good  son.  Only  yisterday  he  tould  me 
how  he  caught  a  whole  gang  of  bank  robbers — sur- 
rounded thim  all  alone  and  made  them  surrinder." 

Just  then  Jack  came  in,  and,  overhearing  his  grand- 
mother's repetition  of  his  last  extravagant  yarn, 
flushed  deeply.  Those  adventures  were  usually  in- 
tended for  the  old  lady's  ears  alone,  because  she  was 
the  only  one  to  lend  credence  to  them.  He  thought 
best,  however,  to  offer  no  explanation,  because  his 
friends  knew  of  this  little  failing  of  his.  Sammy  also 
arrived  just  then,  and  Mrs.  CXDonnell  hastened  to 
place  the  remainder  of  the  dinner  on  the  table. 

"Jack,  old  friend,"  Phillip  spoke  up,  after  they 
were  seated,  "I  have  just  told  granma  that  I'm  going 
to  leave  you ;  I'm  going  out  west." 

Jack  was  no  less  surprised  than  his  grandmother 
had  been,  but  he  did  not  indulge  in  useless  lamenta- 
tions. He  was  silent  a  moment,  then  extended  his 
hand  across  the  table  and  grasped  Phillip's.  A  tear 

138 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

glistened  in  his  eye,  as  he  said,  "I  will  stay  with 
granma." 

He  also  had  been  touched  by  the  "western  fever," 
but  he  knew  that  for  the  few  years  of  her  remaining 
life  his  duty  was  to  be  at  the  side  of  his  old  grand- 
mother. 

Not  so  with  Sammy,  however ;  his  eyes  sparkled  the 
moment  he  heard  the  announcement,  and  eagerly  he 
asked,  "Take  me  along,  Phillip,  won't  you  ?" 

"I  will  if  you  wish  to  go,"  was  the  ready  response. 

"Are  you  tired  of  clerking?"  Jack  asked  after  a 
while. 

"No,  but  I  have  been  discharged."  Then  he  told 
them  of  his  reception  by  Mr.  Carson  and  the  cause, 
relating  his  whole  experience  of  the  previous  Sunday, 
without  telling  who  the  friend  was  whom  he  saved. 

"Yes,  and  I  was  that  boy,"  burst  out  Sammy ;  "to 
think  that  after  all  you  have  done  for  me  I  should 
cause  you  to  lose  your  job  and  drive  you  out  of  the 
city." 

Jack  and  Mrs.  O'Donnell  were  astonished,  and  full 
of  sympathy;  but  our  hero  was  cheerful  and  told 
them  he  didn't  care. 

"Never  mind,  Sammy,  it's  all  for  the  best.  Who 
knows  what  would  have  become  of  me  if  I  had  re- 
mained here.  Now  I'm  going  out  west  and  will  make 
my  fortune." 

His  cheerfulness  and  confidence  infected  the  oth- 
ers, and  soon  they  were  discussing  their  trip  and 
plans  for  the  future.  Jack  proposed  a  week's  vaca- 
tion to  visit  again  all  the  old  places  of  their  youthful 
adventures  in  the  city ;  but  Phillip's  impatience  would 

139 


PLUCK 

admit  of  no  delay.  When  his  mind  was  made  up  he 
had  to  act.  He  could  be  ready  to  start  Thursday 
morning,  and  start  then  he  would. 

That  afternoon  Phillip  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his 
parents,  telling  them  of  the  change  in  his  plans  and 
requesting  that  they  direct  his  letters  in  care  of  Mr. 
Gross  until  they  heard  from  him  again.  He  also  en- 
closed a  few  short  lines  to  his  older  brothers,  to  be 
forwarded  to  them.  To  Eda  he  wrote  more  at  length. 
Contrary  to  expectation,  Mr.  Baldwin  had  been  re- 
appointed  for  another  four-year  term,  and  he  would, 
therefore,  not  return  to  America  for  several  years  to 
come.  He  wrote  his  sister  that  he  expected  to  visit 
Detroit  and  would  call  on  Mr.  Baldwin's  friends ;  but 
expected  to  go  still  farther  west. 

To  Mr.  Gross  he  would  not  write.  He  wanted  to 
surprise  him,  and  was  sure  of  a  hearty  welcome  at 
any  time. 

Jack  came  home  in  the  evening  and  announced  that 
he  had  obtained  leave  of  absence  for  the  next  day. 
They  would  spend  the  day  visiting  old  friends  and 
playmates.  Sammy  was  all  excitement  with  antici- 
pation of  his  trip;  coupled  with  this  was  the  fear 
that  his  father,  whose  term  of  imprisonment  expired 
that  day,  might  find  him  out  and  put  a  stop  to  it. 
He  slept  very  little  that  night  or  the  next ;  every  lit- 
tle noise  startled  him,  and  he  was  in  a  constant  fever 
of  anxiety  lest  his  father  might  suddenly  show  up. 

Wednesday  was  spent  in  visiting  friends,  as  had 
been  planned.  They  called  on  many  of  their  former 
young  comrades,  some  of  whom  they  found  at  the  old 
haunts.  The  parting  with  Professor  Yale  and  his 

140 


WHY  PHILLIP  LEFT  NEW  YORK 

sister  was  affecting;  they  never  expected  to  see  each 
other  again,  and  Phillip  felt  under  a  deep  debt  of 
gratitude  to  his  kind  teacher.  Fanny  and  Nellie,  too, 
his  little  schoolmates,  he  hunted  .up,  and  they  blush- 
ingly  accepted  his  farewell  kiss. 

Phillip  proposed  that  they  visit  the  Superintend- 
ent of  Police;  although  he  had  seen  him  but  a  few 
days  before,  he  thought  he  ought  to  say  good-bye  to 
so  great  a  man  who  had  been  so  kind  to  him.  Sammy 
would  not  go  along — he  had  his  doubts  as  to  what 
might  be  done  to  him  if  the  Superintendent  found  out 
he  was  the  boy  who  took  the  diamonds;  so  that  the 
other  two  went  alone. 

They  were  promptly  admitted,  and,  when  the 
Superintendent  looked  up  and  recognized  our  hero, 
he  smilingly  exclaimed,  "What !  In  trouble  again  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  Phillip  answered,  "I  thought  I  might 
come  and  say  good-bye  to  you ;  I'm  going  to  leave  the 
city  to-morrow." 

"Leave  the  city?  But  why  so  sudden,  what  has 
happened  ?  Sit  down." 

Phillip  flushed,  but  promptly  answered  without 
changing  his  position,  "I  have  lost  my  job.  My  em- 
ployer discharged  me  because — because  of  what  hap- 
pened Sunday." 

"Because  of  what  happened  Sunday?  Didn't  I 
release  you  because  you  were  not  the  thief?  Why 
should  he  discharge  you  ?"  said  the  chief,  irritated  and 
in  great  surprise ;  then,  seeing  Phillip  still  standing, 
added : 

141 


PLUCK 

"Sit  down  and  tell  me  briefly  all  that  has  happened 
since  Sunday  to  cause  you  to  change  your  plans  so 
suddenly." 

Phillip  complied  with  the  request.  When  he  had 
concluded  the  Superintendent  said,  thoughtfully, 
"Well,  you  may  be  right,  although  you  would  have 
come  to  the  front  in  this  city  as  well." 

Then,  turning  to  look  at  Jack,  he  added,  "Is  this 
your  friend  Mack,'  who  is  now  in  the  employ  of  Mr. 
Morton  ?"  and  on  receiving  an  affirmative  answer,  he 
said  to  the  latter  : 

"I  may  have  occasion  to  use  you  soon  in  a  matter 
that  may  affect  your  young  friend's  former  acquaint- 
ances, Pfeffer  and  Krumm,  although  under  different 
names.  Tell  Mr.  Morton  when  I  send  for  you  to 
release  you  at  once  from  any  work  you  may  be  en- 
gaged in  and  send  you  to  me." 

"Well,  my  young  friend,"  again  turning  to  the 
other,  "I  wish  you  good  luck;  always  keep  a  stiff 
upper  lip,  and  you'll  be  all  right.  If  you  ever  come 
to  New  York  again,  hunt  me  up;  I  shall  be  glad  to 
see  you."  So  saying,  he  shook  hands  with  Phillip 
and  the  boys  departed. 

When  they  had  left  the  room  the  Superintendent 
turned  to  his  secretary  and  said:  "Remarkable  boy, 
that  young  Bertram — got  the  right  mettle ;  he'll  make 
his  mark  some  day." 

"A  scion  of  good  old  stock,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 


CHAPTER  XI.  I 

PETER  GROSS. 

AKLY  next  morning  Phillip  and  Sammy 
bade  farewell  to  their  kind  friends.  The 
former  wept,  while  the  good  old  lady  held 
him  to  her  expansive  breast;  she  had  been 
good  and  kind  to  him,  had  given  him  a  home  when 
lost  and  shelterless  in  the  great  city,  and  cared  for 
him  like  a  mother;  and  his  heart  overflowed  with 
gratitude. 

"God  bless  ye,  me  bye!  Ye'll  niver  see  yer  ould 
granma  agin ;  and  when  Oi'm  gone  Jack  will  follow 
ye,  Oi  know.  His  heart  is  with  ye  now,  but  I  can't 
let  him  lave  me  yit,"  and  she  hugged  and  kissed  him 
over  and  over  again. 

Finally,  with  a  sad  heart,  he  left  her  to  weep  alone. 
She  had  learned  to  love  him  in  her  own  fashion  like 
an  own  son,  and  it  seemed  terrible  hard  to  say  fare- 
well forever. 

Jack  accompanied  the  other  two  as  far  as  Jersey 
Oity,  where  they  bought  their  tickets,  and,  after  a 
long,  warm  clasp  of  the  hands,  the  friends  parted 
and  Phillip  and  Sammy  entered  the  waiting  train. 

"I'll  follow  you  some  day,  Phil,"  were  Jack's  last 
words  as  they  entered. 

143 


PLUCK 

"A — 11  aboard !"  the  conductor  shouted,  and  slowly 
the  train  pulled  out,  carrying  the  erstwhile  little 
"greenhorn"  away  from  the  scenes  and  surroundings 
that  for  four  years  had  witnessed  and  contributed  to 
his  growth,  development  and  transformation.  A  lit- 
tle boy,  ignorant  of  the  language  of  the  country, 
"green"  and  inexperienced,  he  had  entered  the  city ; 
a  youth  of  fifteen,  whose  pronunciation  of  English 
hardly  gave  a  hint  of  his  foreign  birth,  strong,  healthy 
and  courageous,  rich  in  observation  and  experience, 
he  left  it — a  thousand  times  better  equipped  to  take 
up  single-handed  the  battle  of  life. 

The  trip  was  one  of  unalloyed  pleasure  to  Sammy. 
He  was  brimming  over  with  happiness;  he  had 
eluded  his  father — if  the  latter  had,  indeed,  searched 
for  him,  which  was  doubtful — and  was  now  on  the 
way  to  freedom.  A  new  existence  seemed  to  dawn 
before  him,  and  wherever  he  looked  he  found  cause 
for  delight. 

Phillip  could  not  long  resist  contagion,  and  soon 
forgot  the  sorrow  of  parting  in  the  attraction  of  the 
scenes  of  country  life  constantly  displayed  to  his 
view.  Each  stop  that  was  made  the  boys  rushed  out 
onto  the  depot  platform  and  mingled  for  a  few  min- 
utes with  the  villagers  assembled  to  witness  the  train's 
arrival  und  departure.  The  stops  were  not  very  fre- 
quent, but  often  quite  long,  and  the  speed  of  the 
train,  when  at  its  best,  was  far  from  making  one 
dizzy.  They  did  not  cross  the  Delaware  until  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  ride  southward  along 
the  west  bank  took  fully  three  hours  longer.  But  it 
was  delightful !  For  miles  they  could  see  the  shining 

144 


PETER  GROSS 

waters  far  ahead  and  behind  them  glitter  in  the  sun- 
light and  the  scenery  was  at  times  wildly  grand  and 
beautiful. 

It  was  five  o'clock  when  they  arrived  at  Philadel- 
phia and  were  once  again  in  the  midst  of  the  noise 
and  bustle  of  a  great  city.  But  it  was  not  like  New 
York ;  it  seemed  to  lack  the  rush  and  excitement  and 
nervous  tension  of  the  American  metropolis.  The 
newsboys,  even,  did  not  seem  to  show  the  aggressive- 
ness to  which  our  two  friends  were  accustomed.  The 
hack  and  'bus  drivers  alone  could  be  said  to  equal 
those  of  New  York  in  their  shouting  and  importuni- 
ties. 

Our  friends,  with  their  carpet  bags  in  their  hands, 
approached  one  of  them  and  asked  whether  he*  could 
take  them  to  No.  724  Twenty-First  street. 

"Yes,  sir;  yes,  sir;  get  right  in,  gentlemen — take 
you  right  to  the  door,"  he  assured  them. 

The  boys  got  into  the  'bus  and  were  soon  bowling 
along  at  a  good  rate.  After  riding  about  half  an 
hour  he  halted  in  front  of  a  large  frame  building  of 
somewhat  disreputable  appearance,  and  opened  the 
door  for  them  to  alight. 

"What  place  is  this?"  asked  Phillip,  peering  out 
at  the  building  and  its  surroundings.  It  did  not  look 
like  a  wholesale  wine  merchant's  establishment,  nor 
did  the  surrounding  buildings  seem  to  indicate  that 
this  was  a  "wholesaling"  district. 

"It's  all  right,  get  right  out ;  they'll  show  you  the 
place  when  you  get  into  the  hotel,"  was  the  driver's 
answer. 

145 


PLUCK 

Phillip  was  alert ;  he  read  the  driver's  number  and 
saw  from  his  looks  that  he  was  a  scoundrel. 

"No.  29,  you  will  take  us  direct  to  724  Twenty- 
first  street  without  an  instant's  delay,"  he  said  sharp- 
ly ;  "and  see  that  you  make  no  mistake !" 

The  driver  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  gave  a 
long  drawn  thoughtful  whistle  and  jumped  onto  his 
seat. 

"All  right,  gentlemen,"  he  called  back;  "I  made 
a  mistake." 

He  evidently  had — that  of  taking  them  for  "suck- 
ers." 

It  was  after  six  o'clock  when  he  again  stopped, 
and,  looking  out,  Phillip  read  the  sign  in  large  gilt 
letters,  "Peter  Gross  &  Son.  Wholesale  Wines  and 
Liquors."  He  and  his  friend  alighted,  paid  the 
driver  and  started  for  the  door,  while  the  latter  drove 
away. 

They  found  the  door  locked,  but  after  several  times 
rapping  a  man,  evidently  the  night  watch,  appeared 
and  asked  what  they  wanted. 

"We  want  to  see  Mr.  Peter  Gross,"  Phillip  replied. 

"Mr.  Peter  Gross  has  retired  from  business  and 
lives  over  in  German  town ;  his  son  Adolph  now  runs 
the  business  and  he  has  gone  home  for  the  day." 

"Can  you  give  us  his  street  and  number  ?"  Phillip 
asked. 

"Yes,  sir ;  if  you  will  wait  a  minute."  he  answered, 
and  went  back  into  the  store.  In  a  short  time  he  re- 
turned with  the  required  address,  and  after  having  re- 
ceived the  necessary  directions,  our  friends  started 
out. 

146 


PETER  GROSS 

"It  will  be  dark  before  you  get  there  if  you  walk — 
better  hire  a  'bus,"  he  called  after  them. 

Our  young  friends  did  not  care  to  spend  more 
money  than  necessary,  and,  therefore,  preferred  to  go 
on  foot.  After  an  hour's  brisk  walking  and  much  in- 
quiring, they  finally  reached  the  correct  address. 

Phillip  boldly  took  the  lead  and  sounded  the 
knocker.  A  servant  girl,  evidently  of  German  ex- 
traction, answered  the  call  and  wished  to  know  what 
they  wanted. 

"We  want  to  see  Mr.  Gross,"  Phillip  replied.  The 
girl  asked  them  to  wait,  closed  the  door  and  returned 
into  the  house. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Gross,  who  for  many 
years  had  been  a  "high  liver,"  just  at  this  time  had  a 
most  painful  attack  of  the  gout.  In  spite  of  the  doc- 
tor's strict  orders,  however,  he  could  not  deny  his  ap- 
petite ;  and  his  wife,  who  was  almost  as  stout  and  as 
a  rule  as  good-natured  as  he,  upheld  him  in  it. 

"Wat's  de  use  of  killing  yourself  by  shtarving.  You 
always  eat  und  drinked  all  you  want  for  de  last 
dwenty  years  und  it  nefer  hurt  you.  Dat  ain't  wat 
ails  you.  I  dink  it's  de  rheumatiz !"  she  gave  as  her 
decisive  opinion ;  and  Peter  was  only  too  happy  to 
believe  it.  As  a  result  his  pain  increased  instead  of 
diminishing. 

That  evening  he  had  just  finished  a  hearty  supper, 
and,  with  it,  a  bottle  of  his  fiery  "Burgunder,"  and 
was  now  lying  back  in  his  massive  easy  chair,  smoking 
a  pipe  and  reading  the  evening  paper,  while  his 
heavily  bandaged  foot  rested  on  a  comfortable  stool, 
when  the  servant  announced: 

147 


PLUCK 

"Mr.  Gross,  dare  are  two  poys  at  de  door  wat  want 
to  seen  you." 

"Dell  dem  to  go  away.  I  won't  see  nobody  to- 
night," he  said,  angry  at  being  disturbed. 

The  girl  returned  to  our  friends  and  told  them 
they  could  not  see  Mr.  Gross  that  night;  he  was  in- 
disposed and  they  could  call  in  the  morning. 

"But  we  must  see  him  at  once,  if  only  for  a  few 
minutes.  Tell  him  we'll  go  right  away  then — if  he 
wants  us  to,"  Phillip  rejoined. 

She  re-entered  and  reported,  "De  poys  won't  go, 
dey  say  dey  must  seen  you  to-night  shure." 

"Wat  de  dewil  you  say?"  shouted  the  now  thor- 
oughly angry  lord  of  the  house,  "dey  won't  go  away 
wen,  I  dell  dem  to  go!  Ho,  fetch  dem  in  here,  I'll 
make  dem  go  double  gwick !"  and  he  thumped  his  cane 
violently  on  the  floor. 

Phillip  was  already  in  the  hallway,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  Sammy,  as  the  old  gentleman  began  to 
speak — the  servant  not  having  latched  the  door  when 
she  closed  it  the  second  time — and,  just  as  old  Peter 
finished  the  last  sentence,  he  pushed  open  the  door 
of  the  sitting  room  and  appeared  before  his  irate 
friend,  with  Sammy  at  his  heels. 

The  old  gentleman  stared  as  though  he  saw  a  ghost. 
Suddenly  he  shouted :  "Himmel  alle  Welt !  Phillip, 
is  dat  you  ?  Ou ! !  Ou ! !  Au ! !  Au— oo ! ! !  Oh,  Lord  !" 
he  groaned  and  gasped  the  next  instant;  "Oh,  die 
verdammte  rheumatiz !  Ach,  nch,  how  dat  hurts !" 
In  his  joy  at  seeing  Philip  he  had  jumped  from  his 
chair,  forgetting  all  about  his  inflamed  foot.  "Oh, 
my.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  come !  Oh,  my,  how  dat 

148 


PETER  GROSS 

hurts/'  and  between  his  exclamations  of  mingled  pain 
and  pleasure,  Sammy  was  not  at  all  sure  that  their 
appearance  had  been  welcome. 

Phillip  went  up  to  his  old  friend,  who  seized  his 
extended  hand  and  squeezed  it  with  pleasure,  empha- 
sized no  doubt  by  the  agonizing  twinges  in  his  foot. 

Then  he  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Gross,  whom  he 
had  never  met,  but  who  was  easy  to  recognize  from 
Mr.  Gross'  description  of  her. 

"Sit  down  boys,  sit  down ;  ma,  dell  Clara  to  bring 
de  boys  someding  to  eat,  dey  must  be  hungry — und 
a  bottle  of  wine,  too ;  dell  her  to  bring  it  all  right  in 
here  on  de  little  dable,  so  I  can  see  dem  wile  dey  eat." 

"Und  who  is  your  young  frient  dere?"  he  con- 
tinued; "looks  like  a  nice  boy;  did  you  bring  him 
from  New  York  wid  you  ?" 

"Yes,  uncle,  that  is  Sammy  Dornbush,  about  whom 
I  wrote  you  several  times.  His  mother  died  last  Sun- 
day and  he  has  come  with  me  to  seek  his  fortune," 
Phillip  replied. 

"De  boor  boy,  to  lose  his  modder  so  young,"  and 
the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes  at  once.  "Come  here,  my 
boy,  shake  hands,"  and  he  extended  his  fat  red  hand 
to  Sammy. 

"Go  ofer  to  ma,  und  she  will  make  you  feel  at 
home ;  she  is  a  goot  woman,"  he  directed,  and  Sammy 
went  and  was  soon  sitting  on  the  lounge  beside  Mrs. 
Gross,  answering  her  kindly  questions  until  supper 
was  served. 

"Now,  boys,  sit  down  und  eat,"  Mr.  Gross  urged 
as  soon  as  the  table  was  set ;  "but  first  we'll  drink  a 
glass  of  wine  to  dis  happy  day;  ma,  fill  de  glasses. 

149 


PLUCK 

De  doctor  says  I  must  not  drink  any  wine  on  account 
of  my  rheumatiz;  but  I  dink  a  little,  wonced  in  a 
wile,  don't  make  no  differentz." 

"Prosit,  boys,  und  a  long  life  and  happiness  to 
you,"  he  continued,  as  they  touched  glasses ;  "if  you 
nefer  drink  more  den  I,  it  will  nefer  hurt  you." 

Our  young  friends  did  ample  justice  to  the  good 
meal  set  before  them,  their  long  walk  and  the  late- 
ne.ss  of  the  hour  having  given  them  a  vigorous  appe- 
tite. 

During  the  whole  meal  old  Peter  plied  his  young 
friend  with  questions,  and  now  and  then,  when  the 
latter  showed  some  reluctance  in  relating  a  personal 
experience,  Sammy  would  be  drawn  into  the  conver- 
sation, and  relate  matters  certainly  not  to  Philip's 
discredit. 

The  latter  had  to  tell  again  in  all  detail  how  he 
had  been  lost  in  New  York  City,  although  he  had 
long  since  written  Mr.  Gross  full  particulars;  and 
the  exclamations  of  the  old  gentleman  now  and  then 
were  more  expressive  than  elegant. 

"Dem  tarn  schoundrels  ought  to  be  hung!"  he  ex- 
claimed, striking  his  cane  violently  on  the  floor,  when 
Phillip  had  related  the  manner  in  which  Pfeffer  and 
Krumm,  after  robbing  him,  had  him  locked  up  in  the 
police  station. 

"Now  dat  chudge  was  a  good  man ;  dat  was  right ! 
De  whole  bolice  force  ought  to  haf  been  sushpended," 
was  his  comment  on  the  police  magistrate  who  dis- 
charged Phillip  and  locked  up  and  suspended  the  of- 
ficer. 

150 


PETER  GROSS 

The  Superintendent  of  Police  was  "a  chentleman, 
ef  ery  inch  of  him ;  he  is  a  great  man  und  do  anyting 
for  me." 

But  the  climax  of  his  approval  was  reached  when 
Phillip  related  how  they  had  met  Krumm,  a  year 
later,  and  how  Jack  had  thrashed  him.  "Hurrah  for 
dat  boy !  Dat  is  a  boy  after  mine  own  heart !  He's 
a  brick,  he's  a  whole  brickyard !  Wy  didn't  you  bring 
him  along  ?  He  must  come  und  see  me ;  I  will  write 
to  him.  Lord  knows  wat  would  haf  become  of  you 
if  he  hadn't  been  your  frient.  Und  Sammy,  you  was 
a  f aitful  frient,  too ;  I  will  make  a  man  off  you.  Did 
you  see  de  fight,  too,  Sammy  ?" 

And  Sammy  had  to  tell  the  whole  thing  over  again, 
which  he  did  with  many  boyish  embellishments. 

Briefly  then  Phillip  sketched  the  remainder  of  his 
experiences  up  to  that  day,  reserving  many  little  in- 
cidents for  future  evenings. 

Now  and  then  Mr.  Gross  urged  them  to  drink  an- 
other glass  of  wine,  but  the  boys  steadily  declined; 
this  did  not,  however,  deter  him  from  cheerfully  fin- 
ishing the  bottle  alone. 

"Well,  I'm  glad,  anyhow,  dat  you  are  demperentz," 
he  remarked  at  one  time,  rather  earnestly;  "I  wish 
my  Adolph  would  not  drink  so  much,"  and  after  a 
moment's  pause,  added,  in  the  utmost  good  faith :  "If 
he  would  only  drink  moderately  like  his  fadher,  he 
would  be  all  right ;  but  dat  young  America — you  can't 
do  noting  wid  dem." 

It  was  near  midnight  when  Mrs.  Gross  finally  sug- 
gested that  they  retire. 

151 


PLUCK 

"Yes,  go  wid  ma,  she'll  show  you  to  your  room; 
und  to-morrow  we  can  haf  a  long  dalk.  Did  you  bring 
a  drunk?  No?  Well,  dake  your  satchels  up  along, 
und  we'll  see  wat  you  need  in  de  morning.  Goot 
night,  boys!  Ma,  come  back  und  help  me  wid  nay 
foot;  dat  tarn  ding  is  beginning  to  hurt  again  like 
blazes,"  he  added  with  a  grimace,  as  he  endeavored 
to  shift  his  position. 

Our  friends  enjoyed  a  good  night's  rest,  and  the 
sun  was  shining  brightly  into  their  room  when  they 
awoke. 

"Are  you  awake,  Sammy?"  asked  Phillip,  lightly 
shaking  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"Yes,  Phil,  just  woke  up.  Say,  Phil,  I've  been 
thinking — you  won't  mind,  will  you  ?  but  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  call  me  'Sammy'  any  more.  Call  me  'Sam,' ' 
he  said  entreatingly.  "You  know  I'm  small  enough 
anyway,  without  constantly  calling  attention  to  my 
size." 

"Very  well,, old  boy;  you  shall  be  Samuel  or  Sam 
to  me  hereafter,  barring  an  occasional  slip  from  old 
habit.  Reckon  you  are  right ;  we  have  started  out  to 
make  our  fortunes  as  men,  and  we  must  assume  the 
manner  of  men — 'though  we'll  slip  up  often  enough  ! 
Well,  let's  get  up."  So  saying,  Phillip  jumped  out  of 
bed  and  proceeded  to  wash. 

"Oh,  look !"  exclaimed  Sam,  as  in  deference  to  his 
wishes  we  must  hereafter  call  him,  "isn't  this  a  beau- 
tiful neighborhood?"  and  his  friend  joined  him  at 
the  open  window,  while  wiping  his  face  with  a  towel. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  pleasant  scene  that  met  their  view. 
The  many  quaint,  old-fashioned  residences,  with  here 

152 


PETER  GROSS 

and  there  one  of  more  modern  architecture,  half  con- 
cealed by  the  massive  shade  trees  that  lined  the  streets 
and  studded  wide  green  lawns,  the  sun  just  high 
enough  to  cast  fantastic  shadows  and  make  the  dew 
drops  sparkle  like  ten  thousand  crystals,  the  fragrance 
of  the  morning  air,  sweet  scented  by  the  flowers 
blooming  in  every  dooryard,  all  lent  a  charm  to  cap- 
tivate the  senses  of  our  young  friends  who  had  long 
lived  in  a  crowded  district  of  the  poor  in  a  large  city. 

"Let's  hurry  up  and  get  out,"  Phillip  exclaimed 
eagerly,  after  gazing  on  the  scene  for  a  few  minutes. 
"This  is  too  nice  to  stay  indoors." 

When  they  reached  the  sitting-room  they  found 
Mrs.  Gross,  true  to  her  early  habits,  already  up  and 
giving  directions  for  breakfast.  She  greeted  them 
very  heartily  and  inquired  how  they  had  rested,  and 
whether  their  dreams  had  been  pleasant.  "I  didn't 
dream  at  all,"  Phillip  answered  laughingly ;  "the  bed 
was  so  soft  and  nice,  I  could  only  sleep."  But  Sam 
said  he  had  beautiful  dreams  all  night,  and  just  when 
he  was  sure  he  owned  such  a  nice  home  himself  he 
awoke. 

"Well,  I'm  so  glad,"  Mrs.  Gross  rejoined,  "because 
you  know,"  she  added  impressively,  "wat  one  dreams 
wen  he  schleeps  in  a  house  de  firsht  time  always  comes 
true!" 

Mr.  Gross  had  not  yet  arisen;  his  ailment  was 
worse  that  morning,  and  he  had  just  dropped  off  into 
a  second  sleep.  So  Mrs.  Gross  said  they  would  not 
wait  with  breakfast. 

If  the  old  lady  had  found  reason  to  admire  our 
friends'  appetites  on  the  evening  before,  she  found 

153 


PLUCK 

renewed  cause  for  delight  in  the  manner  in  which 
they  did  justice  to  her  cooking  that  morning. 

"It  pays  to  cook  for  such  boys  as  you.  Dat's  de 
way  pa  used  to  eat,  und  Adolph — but  it's  a  long  time 
since  he  eat  like  dat — it  was  before  he  took  to  drink- 
ing so  much,"  she  added,  sadly. 

She  told  them  that  Adolph  was  married  and  lived 
farther  down  town,  so  as  to  be  near  the  business.  His 
wife  was  "a  good  woman,  but  she  could  do  noding 
wid  him  eider.  Rosa,"  that  was  his  little  girl,  twelve 
years  old,  "she  comes  up  here  often,  und  she  is  the 
best  little  girl  wat  it  gives.  She  got  her  fodder's  good 
heart,  but  she  looks  just  as  pretty  as  her  mudder  did 
wen  she  was  a  little  ding  like  dat." 

After  breakfast,  Phillip  suggested  a  walk,  and  Mrs. 
Gross  urged  them  not  to  be  gone  too  long,  as  "pa" 
would  be  sure  to  want  them  when  he  got  up.  "Und 
don't  get  lost  boys,"  she  cautioned  them  as  they 
started,  "because  dis  is  a  large  city." 

Our  friends  smilingly  assured  her  that  they  would 
be  careful,  and  would  come  back  early. 

For  three  hours  they  strolled  about  the  beautiful 
residence  portions  of  the  ancient  city — ancient  at 
least  compared  with  many  others  that  were  then 
rapidly  approaching  it  in  population  and  throbbing 
life.  Many  of  the  houses  bore  evidence  of  bygone 
years  and  carried  the  memories  of  the  past  like  liv- 
ing history.  Here  and  there  still  stood  a  cherished 
relio  of  revolutionary  times  to  waft  the  thrill  of 
patriotism  to  the  human  heart.  Some  of  the  sights 
impressed  our  young  friends  because  they  knew  their 

154 


PETER  GROSS 

import  from  what  they  had    read   or   heard — much 
more,  however,  their  imagination  supplied. 

After  a  long  tramp  and  a  happy  time,  they  re- 
turned to  Mr.  Gross'.  They  found  him  up  and 
dressed,  and  resting  comfortably  in  his  easy  chair,  to 
which  the  old  lady  and  Clara,  the  stout  German  ser- 
vant girl,  had  assisted  him. 

"Goot  morning,  boys,"  he  greeted  cheerfully ;  "been 
out  to  see  de  city  ?  Well,  you  will  find  Philadelphy 
a  fine  old  blace.  I  only  wish  I  could  show  you 
around,  but  my  rheumatiz  is  so  bad  dis  morning,  I 
can't  walk  at  all." 

"Never  mind,  uncle,"  Phillip  replied,  after  return- 
ing the  greeting,  "we  will  do  very  well  alone.  Sam 
and  I  are  no  'greenys'  and  we  will  know  a  good  deal 
about  Philadelphia  before  the  week  is  out.  I'm  sorry 
your  foot  is  so  much  worse  this  morning;  is  there 
anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  sit  down  and  dalk  to  me.  Wen  ma  is 
busy  I  get  awful  lonesome  sometimes."  Then,  turn- 
ing to  a  flaxen-haired,  bright-eyed  little  girl  sitting 
quietly  listening  on  the  sofa,  he  called  to  her,  "Come 
here  Rosa  und  shake  hands  wid  Phillip;  dat  is  my 
young  frient  from  the  ship;  you  two  must  be  good 
frients.  Dat,  Phillip,"  addressing  the  latter,  "is  my 
little  grandchild  Rosa,  und  de  best  girl  in  de  world." 

"Ain't  she  pretty,  eh?"  he  asked,  as  she  came  up 
and  blushingly  extended  her  plump  little  hand  to  the 
young  man,  who  held  it  in  his  own  for  a  moment, 
while  looking  admiringly  into  her  sunny  face  cov- 
ered with  the  blush  of  roses,  then  turned  and  pre- 
sented her  to  his  friend. 

155 


PLUCK 

"This  is  my  good  friend,  Sam  Dornbush,  a  little 
bashful  at  first,  but  true  blue  always.  I  know  we 
three  will  be  friends." 

Sam  had  been  unable  to  withdraw  his  eyes  from 
her  ever  since  he  entered  the  room,  and  now  flushed 
crimson  as  he  awkwardly  touched  the  little  hand  ex- 
tended to  him  and  stammered  that  he  was  "glad  to 
make  her  acquaintance,"  or  something  equally  elo- 
quent. 

The  old  gentleman  soon  engaged  Phillip  in  con- 
versation, while  Rosa  and  Sam  sat  quietly  listening 
a  short  distance  from  them.  She  was  interested,  but 
to  Sam  most  of  what  he  heard  was  not  new.  He 
covertly  watched  the  ever-changing  expressions  of 
her  face ;  and,  gradually  forgetting  all  else,  sat  look- 
ing straight  at  her,  as  though  she  were  the  only  per- 
son in  the  room  besides  himself.  All  at  once  she  arose 
and  startled  him  by  coming  over  to  him  and  asking: 

"Do  I  remind  you  of  some  one  ?" 

"N — no,"  he  stammered,  blushing  again.  "I  think 
I  have  never  seen  any  one  like  you ;  you  are  so  dif- 
ferent." 

"How  different,  ain't  I  as  nice  as  other  little  girls, 
those  in  New  York  ?" 

"Oh,  so  much  nicer,"  was  Sam's  enthusiastic,  but 
subdued  response. 

It  was  her  turn  to  blush  now,  but  she  turned  the 
tables  by  saying:  "Thank  you,  but  mamma  says  it 
isn't  good  manners  to  stare  at  people."  And  she  left 
him  confused,  to  return  to  her  seat,  from  which  she, 
however,  observed  him  more  closely  than  before. 

156 


Mr.  Gross  and  Phillip  had  not  heard  any  of  this 
conversation,  so  engrossed  were  they  in  their  own. 
The  latter  had  just  stated  that  he  now  wanted  to  pay 
back  as  much  as  he  could  of  the  loan,  and  that,  after 
a  short  visit,  he  would  start  for  the  west. 

"Und  I  say  you  can't  go !"  finally  almost  shouted 
the  old  man.  "Wat  you  tinking  about  any  way ! 
First  you  get  yourself  lost  in  New  York  City,  den 
wen  I  find  you  you  won't  come,  und  now  wen  you 
are  here  you  won't  shtay !  Nefer !  You  can't  go 
away  now  I  dell" — he  stopped  suddenly  while  a  groan 
escaped  his  lips.  In  his  excitement  he  had  again  for- 
gotten his  inflamed  foot  and  moved  it  rather  sud- 
denly. 

Phillip  and  the  others  were  all  sympathy  in  a  mo- 
ment ;  but  that  did  not  help  matters ;  the  pain  had  to 
have  its  time  to  recede  gradually. 

After  a  while  the  old  gentleman  again  began : 

"No,  no,  Phillip,  you  must  shtay  wid  me.  I  am 
getting  old  and  ma  is,  too.  You  know  her  old 
trouble,  and  no  one  can  say  how  long  she  will  be  wid 
us.  Rosa,  gif  me  my  handkerchief,  dere,  ofer  dere  on 
the  table."  And  he  wiped  his  eyes  and  continued 
earnestly : 

"If  ma  should  leave  us  I  would  be  all  alone.  I 
know  I  haf  no  right  to  hold  you,  but,  Phillip,  I  like 
you  and  you  will  do  better  here  den  to  go  out  west. 
I  will  send  you  to  college;  I  would  haf  sent  my 
Adolph,  but  de  boy  would  not  go.  But  you  are  dif- 
ferent und  will  be  a  whole  man  some  day.  I  will 
send  you  both  to  school  and  you  can  lif  here  und 
keep  me  company  out  of  school  hours  und  in  the  efen- 

157 


PLUCK 

ings.  Tink  it  ofer  for  a  week  wile  you  look  about 
town.  I  know  your  fadder  will  be  happy  if  you 
shtay  wid  me." 

The  earnest  entreaty  of  the  kindhearted  old  man 
half  persuaded  our  hero,  and  he  felt  the  truth  of  his 
closing  remark.  Yes,  his  father  would  prefer  to  have 
him  stay  and  improve  such  golden  opportunity  to  get 
an  education.  But  the  desire  was  strong  within  him 
to  try  his  fortune  in  the  great  west.  He  felt  the  abil- 
ity to  battle  with  adversity,  and  the  conviction  of  ulti- 
mate success.  A  feeling  of  self-reliance  and  inde- 
pendence had  taken  root  in  his  breast,  and  the  thought 
of  a  time  when  all  his  strength  should  be  put  to  the 
test  thrilled  him  in  every  fibre  of  his  being. 

His  experiences  had  matured  a  naturally  earnest 
nature  beyond  its  years,  and  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he 
possessed  the  self-confidence  and  firmness  of  purpose 
which  had  carried  thousands  of  American  boys  to 
victory  before  him.  American  life  tends  to  early 
development,  and  at  years  when  others  are  still  under 
the  sheltering  protection  of  the  paternal  roof -tree,  we 
often  find  our  boys  boldly  striking  out  for  themselves, 
and  hewing  with  sturdy  purpose  a  pathway  to  vic- 
tory. 

"All  right,  uncle,  I  will  accept  your  kind  hos- 
pitality for  two  weeks,  and  if  I  finally  make  up  my 
mind  to  accept  your  generous  offer,  I'll  try  never  to 
make  you  feel  sorry  for  it,"  Phillip  answered  after  a 
long  pause. 

"Won't  you  come  down  and  see  mamma  this  after- 
noon— grandpa  will  let  you,  won't  you,  grandpa, 
dear?"  spoke  up  Rosa. 

158 


PETER  GROSS 

"Yes,  of  course,  boys,  go  and  see  Rosa's  mamma; 
und  you  must  take  dem  down  to  see  your  papa,  too. 
Tell  your  papa  to  come  und  see  me,  he  has  not  been 
up  for  a  week,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  boys,  you  got  back  all  right,  I  see,"  came 
from  Mrs.  Gross,  who  was  just  entering  the  room ; 
"Philadelphy  is  a  big  city  und  it  makes  me  awful 
tired  to  walk  around ;  but  you  young  boys  don't  mind 
it.  Did  you  bring  back  an  appetite  ?  Come  on,  din- 
ner is  ready ;  come  Rosa,  grandpa  just  had  his  break- 
fast und  don't  want  any  dinner,"  and  she  hustled 
them  out  into  the  adjoining  dining  room. 

"Say,  ma,"  the  latter  called  after  her,  "leave  de 
door  open,  so  I  can  hear  your  dalk." 

Mrs.  Gross  apologized  for  the  dinner,  she  had  an 
attack  of  one  of  her  "dizzy  shpells"  in  the  forenoon, 
and  had  to  leave  most  of  the  work  to  Clara ;  but  the 
meal  seemed  as  fine  to  them  as  any  our  young  friends 
had  ever  tasted. 

When  dinner  was  concluded  and  after  visiting  with 
the  old  gentleman  for  an  hour,  Rosa  insisted  on  the 
promised  call  at  her  mamma's;  and  soon  the  boys 
were  under  way,  with  the  little  girl  pointing  out  in 
childish  enthusiasm  all  the  noteworthy  sights  on  the 
route. 

After  half  an  hour's  walking  they  reached  her 
papa's  home.  It  was  not  unlike  the  modern  flats, 
wedged  in  between  the  other  houses  in  a  street  closely 
built  up.  There  were  shade  trees  lining  both  sides 
of  the  street,  but  little  evidence  of  lawns  or  garden 
plots. 

159 


PLUCK 

The  boys  followed  Rosa  into  the  house  and  were 
presented  to  her  mother,  who  received  them  with 
gracious  welcome. 

She  was  a  woman  of  slight  figure,  and  but  little 
over  thirty  years  of  age;  her  countenance  bore  evi- 
dence of  quiet  grief;  her  eyes,  blue  like  Rosa's,  had 
a  half-veiled  look  of  sadness,  while  her  hair  was 
already  streaked  with  gray. 

She  soon  made  the  boys  feel  at  ease  by  her  gentle 
friendliness,  and  her  kindly  heart  awoke  an  answer- 
ing echo  in  theirs.  They  liked  her  from  the  first 
moment,  and  the  memories  of  their  own  dear  moth- 
ers' love  instinctively  drew  their  hearts  to  her. 

Rosa's  father  was  down  town,  presumably  at  his 
place  of  business,  and  thither  she,  after  a  while,  pro- 
posed to  conduct  her  young  companions.  They  were 
reluctant  to  leave,  and  readily  promised  to  soon  re- 
peat the  visit. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  place  where  they  had  re- 
ceived directions  on  the  evening  before,  Mr.  Gross 
was  absent ;  but  Rosa,  with  grave  importance,  under- 
took to  show  them  about  the  establishment.  The  of- 
fice was  located  in  the  rear  part  of  the  main  store 
room.  Tiers  of  barrels  filled  with  liquor  lined  both 
sides,  and  another  row  extended  the  whole  length  of 
the  room  through  the  center.  The  second  floor  was 
filled  with  all  manner  of  casks,  bottles,  barrels,  boxes 
and  other  packages  for  shipping. 

"But  the  cellars  you  ought  to  see,  they  are  full  of 
wines  from  bottom  to  top.  I  will  get  Mr.  Dorn  to 
go  down  with  us — it's  so  dark  I  don't  like  to  go 
alone,"  Rosa  said  when  they  had  returned  to  the 

160 


PETER  GROSS 

main  floor.  Then  she  called  Mr.  Dorn,  one  of  the 
salesmen,  who  willingly  brought  a  light  and  showed 
our  friends  the  massive  cellars  filled  with  vast  stores 
of  foreign  wines.  Some,  he  said,  were  twenty  years 
old.  In  reply  to  Sam's  question  why  they  did  not 
sell  it  before  it  got  so  old,  he  informed  them  that 
the  wines  improved  and  became  more  valuable  with 
age,  some  of  the  heavier  ones  not  reaching  perfection 
until  full  thirty  years  old. 

It  was  interesting,  and  new.  Sam  stopped  to  talk 
with  some  of  the  boys  engaged  in  washing  bottles  in 
one  of  the  packing  rooms  at  the  front  end  of  the  cel- 
lar, and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  easy  work. 

When  they  again  reached  the  office,  Mr.  Gross  had 
returned,  and  Rosa  introduced  our  young  friends. 
He  was  evidently  somewhat  the  worse  for  liquor,  but 
tried  hard  to  conceal  it.  He  was  of  medium  height,  a 
little  portly,  and  his  red  face  and  watery  eyes  clearly 
showed  the  effects  of  much  dissipation.  Originally 
of  a  kindly,  easygoing  disposition,  strong  drink,  ex- 
cessively indulged  in,  had  made  him  cross  and  irrit- 
able except  when  under  its  influence — at  which  times 
he  was  unduly  gracious  to  everybody. 

His  greeting  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  He  patted 
his  little  daughter's  head  and  took  her  on  his  knee. 

"How  is  grandpa  and  grandma  ?"  he  inquired,  "for 
I  suppose  you  have  been  there  to-day." 

"Yes,  I  took  dinner  there,"  Rosa  answered ;  "grand- 
ma is  quite  well,  but  grandpa  is  unable  to  walk,  his 
rheumatism  is  so  bad ;  and  he  wants  you  to  call.  He 
said  you  had  not  been  to  see  him  for  a  week." 

161 


PLUCK 

"His  rheumatism  is  bad,  ha,  ha,  ha ;  poor  grandpa 
is  bound  to  believe  it's  rheumatism !  But  true,  I 
ought  to  call.  Well,  we'll  go  up  together  to-morrow, 
rosebud,  won't  we  ?"  and  he  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"I  supose  you  will  stay  in  Philadelphia  for  a  while 
now  that  you  have  finally  got  here  ?  The  old  gentle- 
man talked  of  your  coming  so  long  without  result, 
that  I  began  to  doubt  even  your  existence.  And  it's 
wonderful  stories  he  told  about  you,"  he  said,  address- 
ing Phillip;  "he  claims  you  saved  his  life  on  ship- 
board." 

"Oh,  it  was  not  so  bad  as  that,"  Phillip  answered 
with  a  smile ;  "the  doctor  said  he  was  in  no  particular 
danger,  and  all  I  did  was  to  keep  him  company  and 
now  and  then  pass  him  his  medicine  or  fix  his  pillows. 
He  wanted  some  one  to  be  near  him  and  to  talk  to." 

"Yes,  that's  just  like  him ;  it  would  kill  him  to  be 
alone  with  no  one  to  talk  to,  and  so  perhaps  after  all 
you  saved  his  life,"  was  the  laughing  rejoinder. 

To  his  question  as  to  how  long  they  would  remain 
in  the  city,  Phillip  answered  that  they  had  not  made 
up  their  minds.  Mr.  Gross  wanted  them  to  remain 
and  go  to  college ;  but  that  he  wished  to  go  out  West. 

"That's  right,  strike  out  and  do  something;  these 
college-bred  fellows  never  make  good  business  men. 
The  old  gent  wanted  me  to  go  to  college,  too,  but  I 
wouldn't  do  it;  and  I  can  handle  my  business  first 
rate ;"  and  he  looked  around  at  his  clerks  with  pride. 

"I  can  give  one  of  you  a  job  right  now ;  there  is  a 
vacancy  in  the  shipping-room.  It's  not  much  of  a  po- 
sition, but  I'm  the  man  to  give  a  kid  a  chance  to  work 
up  if  he's  up  to  snuff,"  he  continued ;  "which  one  of 

162 


PETER  GROSS 

you  will  it  be  ?"  and  he  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"I  thank  you,"  Phillip  answered ;  "but  if  I  stay  in 
the  city  at  all,  I'll  accept  your  father's  proposition." 

"Then  I  will  take  the  position,"  Sam  spoke  up. 
"When  do  you  want  me  to  begin  ?" 

Adolph  Gross  looked  at  Phillip  with  considerable 
disfavor  on  hearing  his  reply ;  but  turned  very  pleas- 
antly toward  Sam  when  the  latter  accepted  his  offer. 

"It  won't  be  to  your  loss,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "You 
can  start  in  at  any  time,  the  sooner  the  better,  because 
there  is  plenty  of  work." 

"Then  I  will  start  to-morrow  if  Mr.  Gross  con- 
sents." 

Rosa  had  been  watching  them  both  closely,  and  gave 
Sam  such  a  grateful  look  when  he  accepted  that  he 
would  have  been  willing  to  work  without  any  com- 
pensation if  necessary.  But  the  wages  offered  were 
good,  in  fact,  looked  quite  excessive  to  him. 

On  the  way  back  she  said  she  was  so  glad  Sam  had 
accepted  her  papa's  offer  and  hoped  they  would  call 
often  at  her  house.  There  they  left  her,  and  returned 
to  Peter  Gross'  just  in  time  for  supper. 

That  evening  they  had  another  long  talk,  in  which 
Mr.  Gross  repeatedly  urged  Phillip  to  take  the  oppor- 
tunity to  get  a  better  education,  and  before  they  re- 
tired for  the  night  the  latter  gladdened  his  heart  by 
saying : 

"I  will  accept  your  kindness,  because  I  feel  it 
would  be  my  father's  wish ;  although  I  can  do  little 
to  repay  you." 

"Pay  me,  who's  dalking  about  pay  ?"  Mr.  Gross  ex- 
claimed joyously.  "I  get  more  pay  out  of  it  dan  you 

163 


PLUCK 

tink  for.  Ho,  ma,  now  we  won't  get  lonesome  any 
more !  Bodh  de  boys  got  to  lif  here.  Sam  can  take 
his  dinner  down  town,  but  efenings  we  will  be  toged- 
der.  Olara !  Clara !"  he  shouted,  "get  a  bottle  of  old 
Johannisberger,  I'm  going  to  celebrate  on  dis !" 

He  urged  the  boys  to  drink,  but  they  quietly  de- 
clined. Their  observation  of  the  day  set  them  both 
to  thinking  more  seriously  than  ever  before  of  the 
dangers  lurking  in  intoxicants.  True,  they  had  seen 
enough  of  the  baneful  effects  of  liquor  in  their  young 
lives — especially  had  Sammy  suffered  from  its  curse ; 
but,  somehow,  their  hearts  never  before  felt  the  touch 
of  danger  as  Adolph's  looks,  on  that  day,  had  brought 
it  home  to  them.  A  man  of  the  kindest  heart  and 
sympathies  going  to  an  early  grave  through  its  vicious 
grasp  on  his  appetite. 

Phillip  even  went  so  far  as  to  suggest  to  Mr.  Gross 
that  the  wine  would  make  his  foot  worse  for  the  mor- 
row, but  old  Peter  almost  resented  it.  "Wine  don't 
hurt  me,  don't  you  believe  it!  I  drinked  wine  for 
forty  years  und  it  nefer  hurt  me.  It's  de  wedder 
wat's  in  my  foot,  dat's  all.  So  long  as  I  lif  I  can 
drink  too — of  course  wid  moderation." 

"Tree  years  ago  next  New  Years,"  he  continued,  "I 
made  up  my  mind  dat  I  must  be  more  temperentz. 
I  nefer  drinkt  to  excess,  understand,  because  I  nefer 
got  drunk,  anyway  not  fery  often;  but  den  I  some- 
times took  a  few  bottles  more  dan  I  ought  to  and  got 
de  headache  in  de  morning.  So  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  shwear  off  drinking  so  much  und  going  out  to  the 
clubs  in  the  efenings.  You  see,  Monday  night  dere 
was  de  Skaat  club ;  Toosday  night,  the  'old  men's  so- 

164 


PETER  GROSS 

cial  club' ;  Wednesday  night,  men's  'Gesang  Verein' ; 
Tursday  night,  concert,  wen  ma  went  along,  imd  after 
de  concert  some  little  refreshments  at  Shteinmeyer's ; 
und  so  it  went  pretty  near  all  de  week.  Off  course 
no  man  could  shtand  dat  forefer.  So  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  reform.  Now  I  takes  only  one  bottle  before 
dinner,  one  or  two  in  de  afternoon,  und  about  one  or 
so  in  the  efening.  Off  course,  on  special  occasions, 
wen  I  don't  feel  chust  right,  or  wen  I  have  company, 
or  wen  I  get  de  blues,  maybe — den  I  take  a  little 
more.  Aber,  I  nefer  go  out  efenings  now;  I  always 
shtay  at  home  mit  ma.  Off  course,  it  was  hard  at 
fursht,"  he  added  with  a  sigh,  "but  now  I  am  used 
to  it,  und  I  can  get  along  fery  well." 

Phillip  said  no  more.  The  old  gentleman  evidently 
was  sincere  in  the  belief  of  his  extreme  moderation, 
and  it  was  just  as  well  to  leave  him  in  such  belief — 
it  was  too  late  to  make  a  change. 


165 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A  YEAR  IN  PHILADELPHIA. 


HE  next  year  of  Phillip's  life  was,  with 
few  exceptions,  uneventful.  The  ar- 
rangements were  made  nearly  as  the 
elder  Mr.  Gross  wished  them.  Phillip 
went  to  school ;  but  Sam  insisted  upon  taking  the  po- 
sition offered  by  Rosa's. father.  His  duties,  however, 
left  him  the  long  evenings  to  himself,  and  Phillip  be- 
came his  tutor  in  many  things.  Both  boys  lived  at 
the  home  of  Peter  Gross,  and,  if  they  had  been  his 
sons,  their  treatment  could  not  have  been  better. 

The  money  Phillip  had  saved  to  pay  back  what 
he  considered  a  loan,  Mr.  Gross  positively  refused  to 
take,  and  finally  made  the  young  man  keep  it  as  a 
birthday  present.  He  used  a  part  to  purchase  suitable 
clothing  and  the  necessary  books,  and  in  a  short  time 
after  their  arrival  he  was  attending  one  of  the  excel- 
lent schools  for  which  Philadelphia  was  even  then 
noted. 

During  their  leisure  hours  they  cheered  their  kind 
old  friends  to  the  best  of  their  ability.  They  even 
learned  to  play  Mr.  Gross'  favorite  games  of  cards, 
to  help  him  while  away  the  tedious  hours.  Occasion- 
ally his  health  showed  temporary  improvement,  and 

166 


A  YEAR  IN  PHILADELPHIA 

the  boys  would  help  him  out  onto  the  veranda  or  lawn 
to  enjoy  the  warm  summer  evenings ;  but  most  of  the 
time  his  "rheumatiz"  confined  him  to  his  chair  and 
the  house. 

They  still  had  ample  time,  however,  to  stroll  about 
the  city  and  learn  to  know  its  points  of  interest.  Fair- 
mount  Park  soon  became  Phillip's  favorite  resort,  as 
Central  Park  had  been  in  New  York.  It  seemed  to 
bring  him  nearer  to  and  in  touch  with  nature.  There 
he  would  often  go  with  his  books  under  his  arm  to 
get  his  lessons.  Sunday  afternoons,  when  Mr.  Gross 
was  taking  his  accustomed  nap,  both  boys  could  al- 
ways be  found  there,  often  accompanied  by  Rosa,  and 
sometimes  also  by  her  mother. 

Rosa,  too,  was  going  to  school,  and  often  she  would 
come  up  to  the  house  to  have  Phillip  help  her  get  her 
lessons.  Sam  would  then  be  an  eager  listener;  in 
fact,  many  times  he  could  repeat  the  whole  exercises 
after  they  were  through. 

A  warm  attachment  sprang  up  between  Rosa  and 
Sam,  whose  early  lives  and  surroundings  had  been  so 
different;  there  was  a  cord  of  mutual  sympathy  in 
their  natures  which  drew  them  together.  He  was  at- 
tentive to  her  every  wish  and  whim,  and  she  accepted 
his  little  services  with  a  graciousness  that  made  his 
heart  glad. 

The  summer  vacation  was  short,  and  it  passed  like 
a  dream  of  pleasure  to  young  Bertram.  It  was  a 
period  of  his  life  never  to  be  forgotten.  Surrounded 
by  the  kindliest  of  friends,  without  a  care  or  worry, 
free  to  roam  as  suited  fancy — the  days  passed  all  too 
fast. 

167 


PLUCK 

When  the  fall  term  began  he  felt  a  thrill  of  vigor 
and  strength  which  made  his  studies  a  pleasure.  Pro- 
fessor Heidborn,  the  teacher  of  German,  whom 
Phillip  informed  of  his  intentions  for  the  future,  and 
that  he  could  probably  not  conclude  a  full  course, 
helped  him  to  select  such  studies  as  would  be  of  the 
most  benefit ;  and  he  applied  himself  with  such  energy 
to  his  work  that  he  was  soon  the  equal  of  those  whose 
whole  young  lives  had  been  spent  in  preparatory  edu- 
cation. 

Nor  did  he  neglect  athletic  exercises.  In  boxing 
and  wrestling  he  had  no  superior,  and  in  rowing  and 
swimming  he  soon  held  his  own  with  the  majority. 
He  was  growing  rapidly  and  developing  into  a  strong 
symmetrical  young  man.  Before  the  year  closed  he 
had  decidedly  outgrown  his  clothes,  and  he  gave  them 
to  Sam  and  purchased  others  with  the  remainder  of 
his  funds. 

One  thing  happened  during  the  first  year  that  cast 
a  deep  cloud  over  the  happiness  of  our  friends.  Just 
before  Christmas  Mrs.  Peter  Gross  had  another  stroke 
of  apoplexy,  from  which  she  never  recovered.  Phillip 
was  called  from  school  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  fore- 
noon, and  when  he  reached  home  found  her  stretched 
out  upon  the  bed,  conscious,  but  unable  to  speak.  He 
stepped  to  the  bedside  and  bent  over  her.  Gently  he 
parted  the  hair  which  had  fallen  down  on  her  fore- 
head and  kissed  her.  She  evidently  knew  him  and 
her  eyes  sought  his.  A  look  of  deep  entreaty  filled 
them.  Phillip  understood.  "No,  while  he  lives  I 
will  never  leave  him,"  he  answered  the  mute  appeal. 

168 


A  YEAR  IN  PHILADELPHIA 

Her  lips  slightly  parted  as  if  in  the  effort  to  speak, 
but  they  emitted  no  sound.  The  trace  of  a  grateful 
smile  showed  in  her  countenance.  He  had  understood 
her,  and  she  trusted  his  word. 

The  doctor,  who  had  been  hastily  summoned,  called 
him  to  the  next  room. 

"I  understand  from  Mr.  Gross  that  you  are  to  have 
charge  of  the  affairs  here  for  the  present,"  he  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "I  will  not  conceal  from  you  the  true 
situation.  Mrs.  Gross  will  live  but  a  few  days  longer ; 
she  is  sinking  fast,  even  now ;  but  I  fear  very  much 
for  the  life  of  the  old  gentleman  also.  In  their  own 
homely  way  they  were  intensely  devoted  to  each  other 
and  the  blow  will  be  the  more  severe  owing  to  his  con- 
dition. Keep  him  from  indulging  his  grief  too  much, 
or  attempting  to  drown  it  in  the  way  most  natural  to 
him — you  understand.  Excess,  now,  might  be  fatal 
even  more  speedily  than  we  may  anticipate." 

Phillip  sought  Mr.  Gross.  He  was  lying  back  in 
his  chair  sleeping  uneasily ;  and  a  half  empty  bottle 
of  his  strongest  wine  and  an  empty  glass  stood  before 
him  on  the  little  table. 

Quietly  the  young  man  removed  the  bottle  and 
glass,  and  ordered  Clara  not  to  bring  him  any  more 
without  first  consulting  him,  no  matter  what  Mr. 
Gross  might  demand.  ."The  doctor  has  forbidden  it 
unless  we  wish  to  bury  both,"  he  said  earnestly. 

Olara  wept  and  promised  obedience. 

Phillip  returned  to  the  sitting-room  and  took  a 
seat  near  to  Mr.  Gross.  The  latter  talked  incoherent- 
ly in  his  sleep.  Once  he  muttered,  "Ma,  ma,  don't 
leave  me — yes,  I  come  soon — oh,  poor  ma,  und  I 

169 


can't  do  nodding  for  you — iff  only  Phillip  was  here." 
Then  he  shifted  his  position  uneasily  and  awoke. 

"Oh,  Phillip,  I'm  so  glad  you  come,"  he  said  with 
mingled  joy  and  sadness ;  "haf  you  seen  ma  ?  How  is 
she,  is  she  getting  better  ?"  and  he  looked  beseechingly 
into  the  sober  face  of  the  youth. 

Phillip  assured  him  that  the  doctor  was  doing  all 
that  he  could,  and  that  he  must  not  despair;  "but, 
uncle,  we  must  always  be  prepared  for  the  worst.  God 
alone  knows  when  her  time  has  come.  No  matter 
what  happens,  I  will  stay  with  you,  I  have  promised." 

Tears  ran  down  the  old  man's  cheeks,  and  his 
young  friend  turned  away  to  conceal  his  own. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  You  haf  seen  her.  Her  last 
toughts  will  be  of  me.  Iff  she  dies  I  will  soon  follow." 

"Oh,  you  must  not  despair,"  urged  Phillip;  "she 
may  recover  and  live  many  years  yet."  But  his  tone 
lacked  conviction,  and  the  old  man  felt  that  the  situ- 
ation was  hopeless. 

After  a  while  he  turned  and  said,  "Go  tell  Clara 
to  bring  back  dat  bottle  of  wine,  she  must  haf  put  it 
away  to  keep  it  cool." 

"No,"  Phillip  answered,  "I  took  it  away  while  you 
slept,  by  the  doctor's  orders." 

At  any  other  time  old  Peter  would  have  flared  up 
in  great  anger,  but  now  he  only  groaned  and  reclined 
more  deeply  in  his  chair. 

"I  suppose  I  must  obey  now,  because  I  can't  help 
myself,"  he  lamented ;  "Oh,  iff  only  ma  was  here !" 

But  "ma"  would  never  come  to  humor  or  wait  on 
him  again.  These  two,  who  had  breasted  the  storms 
of  life  together,  true  and  faithful  to  one  another 

170 


through,  adversity  and  toil,  from  poverty  to  wealth, 
should  never  more  look  into  each  other's  kindly  eyes 
or  press  the  friendly  hand.  On  the  third  day  after 
the  attack,  Mrs.  Gross  yielded  up  the  spirit,  and  soon 
our  young  friends  and  a  large  circle  of  mourners  fol- 
lowed her  bier  to  the  last  resting  place.  Mr.  Gross 
was  too  ill  to  leave  his  bed.  "I'm  coming,  ma,  I'm 
coming  soon,"  he  wept  as  they  carried  her  remains 
through  the  doorway. 


171 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  GOOD  FRIEND  GONE  FOREVER. 

SHORT  holiday  vacation  had  begun,  and 
Phillip,  greatly  assisted  by  Rosa  and  her 
mother,  undertook  to  cheer  up  the  old  man ; 
and,  indeed,  after  the  first  few  days,  he 
took  matters  philosophically  and  appeared  to  be  re- 
signed, although  it  was  apparent  his  thoughts  con- 
stantly dwelt  on  his  loss.  Something  had  gone  out  of 
his  life,  which  left  it  incomplete. 

When  school  began  again,  Phillip  continued  his 
studies.  It  was  the  old  man's  wish,  and,  as  he  said, 
"Clara  will  dake  care  of  me  wen  you  are  away." 

In  fact,  he  preferred  to  have  the  rest  away  at  times, 
because  Clara  would  then  usually  obey  his  orders, 
and  he  could  find  temporary  forgetfulness  in  an  extra 
bottle  of  his  favorite  wine. 

Toward  spring  it  became  apparent  that  he  was  fail- 
ing rapidly;  at  times  he  would  talk  cheerfully,  then 
again  he  would  sit  for  hours  in  a  state  bordering  on 
torpor. 

One  evening  he  said  to  Phillip,  "I  want  you  to 
shtop  in  at  Lawyer  Orton's  office  to-morrow,  und  dell 
him  to  come  up  here ;  I  want  to  make  my  will.  Anna," 
to  his  son's  wife  sitting  near,  "Adolph  need  not  worry, 

172 


A  GOOD  FRIEND  GONE  FOREVER 

he  will  get  nearly  all ;  aber  I  want  to  do  someting  for 
Phillip.  He  has  been  a  better  frient  to  me  dan  I  haf 
been  to  him." 

"Oh,  father,  don't  think  that  I  will  find  fault. 
While  we  hope  you  may  live  many  years  yet,  it  is  best 
to  be  prepared  for  the  worst,  and  whatever  you  do  for 
Phillip  will  meet  my  approval." 

After  a  time  Adolph  came  also ;  but  the  old  gentle- 
man said  nothing  to  him  about  a  will.  His  son  had  his 
usual  dose  of  spirits  and  was  very  talkative  and  hu- 
morous. 

"That  Sammy,  he's  a  brick.  What  do  you  think 
he  done  to-day?  Oh,  that's  all  right,  Sammy,"  ad- 
dressing the  latter,  who  flushed  deeply,  "a  good  ac- 
tion deserves  praise."  Then  turning  again  to  the 
rest,  "He  saved  me  a  clean  hundred  dollars.  I  sold 
Hinterschmidt  in  Buffalo  a  Barrel  of  '47  'Nierstein- 
er,'  and  that  scoundrel  Ortmann  was  filling  it  with 
my  best  'Hohheimer,'  when  Sammy  discovered  it  and 
told  me  of  it.  I  tell  you  there  was  music  for  a  while !" 

"How  that  boy  has  caught  onto  the  business  so 
quick  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  When  old  Meyer 
leaves,  and  that  won't  be  long,  I'm  going  to  give  him 
a  lift  to  the  front  in  great  shape." 

All  were  pleased  at  the  words  of  praise  for  Sam ; 
but  the  latter  only  looked  modestly  at  the  floor,  cast- 
ing now  and  then  a  furtive  glance  at  Kosa,  to  read, 
if  possible,  in  her  bright  eyes,  how  she  took  it. 

It  was  late  when  they  parted  that  night.  Phillip 
and  Sam,  as  usual,  assisted  the  old  gentleman  to  his 
bed,  and  left  him  with  a  cheerful  "Good  night,  uncle." 

173 


PLUCK 

In  the  morning  when  they  arose,  a  little  later  than 
usual,  they  took  breakfast  and  proceeded  to  say  good- 
bye to  their  old  friend,  who  usually  lay  in  bed  until 
nearly  noon,  before  going  to  their  respective  labors. 

He  did  not  move  when  they  approached  the  bed- 
side, and  Phillip  stepped  nearer  to  see  whether  he 
was  asleep. 

In  a  moment  he  sank  to  his  knees  and  began  to 
weep.  Sam  looked  and  saw  what  Phillip  had  seen: 
Their  good,  kind  old  friend  cold  and  still,  his  glassy 
eyes  turned  to  the  ceiling,  his  lips  blue  and  motion- 
less— and  he,  too,  wept  for  the  friend  he  had  lost. 

Soon  Phillip  slowly  arose,  and,  still  weeping,  ten- 
derly closed  the  lids,  and  went  to  call  Clara.  He  left 
her  and  Sam  in  charge  of  the  dead  and  departed  to 
break  the  sad  news  to  the  son  and  his  family. 

I  will  not  dwell  on  the  sacred  duties  that  ended 
with  depositing  the  mortal  remains  in  the  grave,  or 
the  grief  that  filled  the  hearts  of  those  who  had  loved 
him.  In  spite  of  his  failings,  he  had  been  a  noble, 
large-hearted  man,  generous  and  charitable;  and 
very,  very  many  had  learned  to  love  him. 

After  the  funeral,  Adolph  announced  that  he  would 
give  up  his  down  town  house,  which  he  had  only  rent- 
ed, and  move  into  the  old  home. 

"You  two  boys  can  board  here  as  before,  but  you 
will  have  to  pay  board.  That  is  the  best  way  to  learn 
to  make  your  way ;  learn  to  earn  and  pay  as  you  go." 

"Phillip,"  he  continued,  addressing  himself  to  the 
latter,  "I  know,  of  course,  that  you  were  living  here 
free,  at  the  request  of  my  father,  and  that  he  was 
paying  your  tuition  at  school;  and  you  can  continue 

174 


A  GOOD  FRIEND  GONE  FOREVER 

to  do  so  until  the  present  term  closes;  then  you  will 
have  to  find  work.  I  have  not  the  inducement  to 
burden  myself  with  giving  you  a  fine  college  educa- 
tion, as  father  seemed  to  have,"  and  he  smiled  grimly. 

Mrs.  Gross  wanted  to  intercede  in  Phillip's  behalf, 
but  her  husband  cut  her  short.  He  had  given  his 
"orders,  and  so  it  shall  be  carried  out." 

Phillip  flushed  deeply  because  the  manner,  more 
than  the  words,  of  Mr.  Gross  gave  him  to  understand 
that  the  latter  had  not  forgiven  the  election  he  made 
at  the  time  of  their  first  meeting,  and  that  he  consid- 
ered him  a  burden  which  he  would  throw  off  as  soon 
as  possible. 

He  said  nothing,  but  his  mind  was  made  up  in  a 
moment.  He  would  not  stay  longer  than  was  neces- 
sary to  pack  his  small  belongings,  would  say  good- 
bye to  his  teachers  and  schoolmates,  and  then  com- 
mence his  long-planned  journey  to  the  West. 

Sam  entered  the  room  while  he  was  packing,  and, 
seeing  him  thus  engaged,  asked  in  surprise : 

"Why,  Phil,  what  are  you  doing?  What  are  you 
packing  your  satchel  for?" 

"Sam,"  Phillip  very  deliberately  answered, 
straightening  up,  "I'm  going  to  start  for  the  West.  I 
have  no  right  to  trespass  on  these  people's  bounty. 
It  was  different  while  our  old  friend  was  alive,"  and 
the  tears  came  to  his  eyes  at  the  recollection  of  the 
generous  friend  he  had  lost. 

"Oh,  Phil,  stay  until  your  term  is  out.  Mrs.  Gross 
and  Rosa  will  be  so  sorry  to  have  you  go — just  as  if 
you  had  been  thrown  out,"  pleaded  Sam. 

175 


PLUCK 

"Yes,  I  know ;  Mrs.  Gross  and  Rosa  will  be  sorry 
to  have  me  go,  and  so  will  you;  and  I  hate  to  leave 
you  all.  But  it  is  spring  now  and  I  have  all  summer 
before  me  to  find  a  suitable  location  and  employment. 
I  want  to  get  into  the  country,  and  this  is  the  best 
time  to  start;  besides,"  he  added  while  the  heat  was 
returning  to  his  face,  "I  do  not  want  the  charity  of 
Adolph  Gross." 

"Then  I'll  go  with  you,  Phil,  I  can't  bear  to  have 
you  leave  me,"  and  before  Phillip  could  reply,  Sam 
rushed  out  of  the  room  to  tell  Mr.  Gross  of  their  de- 
termination. 

When  he  reached  the  sitting-room  he  found  that 
the  new  master  of  the  house  had  started  down  town, 
and  Mrs.  Gross  had  retired  to  arrange  her  room. 
Rosa  alone  remained.  She  was  sitting  in  a  chair 
near  an  open  window,  dreamily  looking  out  toward 
the  street. 

She  turned  as  Sam  entered  so  hastily  and  looked 
at  him  with  some  surprise.  The  latter,  when  he  found 
the  others  gone,  stopped  suddenly  near  the  door,  turn- 
ing his  hat,  which  he  held  in  both  hands,  round  and 
round  by  the  brim,  while  his  red  face  showed  strong 
confusion. 

"Were  you  looking  for  papa  ?  He  has  just  started 
down  town,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  I — I  had  something  to  tell  him,"  he  stam- 
mered. 

"I  don't  think  he  will  be  back  until  late ;  but  you 
can  tell  him  in  the  morning." 

"No,  I  must  tell  him  to-day.  Maybe  I  will  find 
him  in  the  office." 

176 


A  GOOD  FRIEND  GONE  FOREVER 

"I  hardly  think  you  will,  Sam,"  and  her  voice  and 
look  indicated  that  she  knew  it  was  a  different  desire 
that  took  him  down  town  at  that  hour  of  the  day  than 
attending  to  business.  "But  is  it  so  important? 
What  is  it,  may  I  know  ?"  and  she  looked  at  him  so 
sweetly  that  Sam  was  all  the  more  confused. 

Finally  he  blurted  out,  "Phillip  is  going  to  go  out 
west  without  staying  the  term  out,  and  I — I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to — to  go  with  him." 

Rosa  jumped  up  from  her  chair  and  her  face  was 
as  red  as  his.  "Phillip  is  going  away,  and  you — you 
are  going  with  him  ?"  she  exclaimed  in  confusion  and 
astonishment,  as  though  she  could  not  grasp  his  mean- 
ing. 

"Yes,  he  says  he  has  no  right  to  remain  any  longer, 
and  spring  is  the  best  time  to  start." 

"And  you — why  do  you  want  to  leave  us?"  she 
asked  anxiously,  while  the  color  receded  from  her 
face. 

"I — I  don't  want  to  let  him  go  alone,  I  would  miss 
him  so  much,"  he  answered  falteringly,  while  endeav- 
oring to  suppress  the  emotion  which  the  thought  of 
parting  brought  up. 

Slowly  she  sat  down  in  her  chair.  What  was  it 
that  made  her  heart  beat  so,  and  made  her  sudden- 
ly feel  so  forlorn!  And  Sammy  could  not  under- 
stand why,  all  at  once,  he  felt  his  desire  to  go  with 
Phillip  desert  him. 

"We  will  miss  you,  too,  very  much,"  she  finally 
ventured  to  say  without  looking  at  him. 

Instantly  Sam  started  towards  her,  but  stopped 
after  taking  a  few  steps.  "I  will  miss  you  more  than 

177 


PLUCK 

all," — he  checked  himself;  then  continued,  "Oh,  I 
don't  know  what  to  do !" 

"Then  stay  with  us,"  came  the  quick,  half-pleading 
response. 

"May  I  be  your — your  friend?"  he  asked  breath- 
lessly, "Oh,  I  like  you  so  much !"  and  he  approached 
closer  to  her  chair  while  the  blood  rushed  to  his  brain. 

"Yes,  and  don't  go  away,"  came  softly  from  the 
sweetest  lips  Sammy  had  ever  seen. 

Awkwardly  he  seized  her  hand.  He  was  going  to 
kiss  it,  but  he  didn't  dare.  The  emotions  of  his  heart 
tumbled  over  each  other.  One  moment  she  raised  her 
glance  to  his — that  settled  it!  A  hope,  a  rich  joy 
thrilled  him.  Go  away !  A  yoke  of  steers  could  not 
have  pulled  him  away  from  Philadelphia ! 

After  a  moment  of  awkward  silence  he  let  go  her 
hand,  and  started  for  the  door  to  go  to  see  Phillip, 
when  Mrs.  Gross  entered.  His  flushed  countenance 
apprised  her  of  something  unusual  having  occurred, 
and,  in  answer  to  her  inquiry,  Sam  informed  her  that 
Phillip  was  going  away  and  would  not  wait  until  the 
term  was  out. 

She  was  very  sorry,  and  at  once  accompanied  him 
to  his  friend's  room  and  endeavored  to  dissuade  him 
from  his  purpose,  but  without  avail.  She  could  not 
help  but  recognize  the  force  of  Phillip's  reasons,  and 
finally  sadly  left  him  to  complete  the  letter  he  was 
writing  to  his  parents. 

When  she  reached  the  sitting-room  she  found  Rosa 
in  tears.  After  a  little  motherly  coaxing  she  admit- 
ted that  she  felt  bad  because  the  boys  were  going 
away. 

178 


A  GOOD  FRIEND  GONE  FOREVER 

"The  boys  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gross  in  surprise, 
"Why  Sam  did  not  say  anything  about  his  going  too ; 
did  he  tell  you  he  was  going  with  Phillip  ?" 

Rosa  energetically  nodded  her  head,  still  battling 
with  her  tears. 

Just  then  Sam  came  back,  and  Mrs.  Gross  greeted 
him  with : 

"Sam,  you  surely  are  not  going  away  too,  are  you  ?" 

"No,  ma'am,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  stay," 
was  his  ready  reply. 

A  less  keen  observer  than  her  mother  would  have 
thought  it  strange  to  see  how  quickly  that  reply 
caused  Rosa's  tears  to  cease.  But  "mamma"  had 
been  young  herself  one  day,  and  that  not  so  very  long 
ago;  and  she  had  long  seen  the  growth  of  youthful 
affection  between  these  two  without  fear  for  her  little 
one.  Young  Dornbush  gave  promise  of  becoming  a 
trusty  man,  even  though  the  old  gentleman  had  not 
lived  long  enough  to  "make  a  man  off  him"  in  his 
way,  and  she  had  no  foolish  pride  of  wealth  or  posi- 
tion. Her  own  experience  led  her  to  prize  manly 
virtues  in  a  husband  as  the  only  guarantee  to  a  wife's 
happiness. 

She  therefore  did  not  remark  upon  what  she  had 
just  observed,  though  she  knew  she  had  found  the  key 
to  Sam's  previous  flustered  condition. 

In  a  short  time  Phillip  came  down  stairs,  satchel 
in  hand. 

Mrs.  Gross  jumped  up.  "What,  Phillip,  you  are 
surely  not  going  to-day,  now  ?"  she  exclaimed  in  great 
surprise,  and  on  his  answering  that  he  had  come  to 
say  good-bye,  she  besought  him  with  such  earnest- 

179 


PLUCK 

ness,  seconded  by  the  others,  that  he  yielded  and  con- 
sented to  spend  the  evening  with  them  and  another 
night  in  the  house  where,  after  all,  he  had  seen  so 
many  of  his  happiest  days. 

All  evening  they  sat  together  in  the  cozy  room 
where  old  Peter  Gross  had  been  wont  to  pass  his  wak- 
ing hours  during  the  last  few  years  of  his  life,  and 
talked  over  the  past.  Phillip  also  told  them  as  much 
as  he  could  of  his  plans  for  the  future.  He  would 
write  as  soon  as  he  had  a  place  where  he  would  re- 
main long  enough  to  receive  an  answer.  His  intention 
was  to  travel  leisurely,  and  mostly  on  foot,  to  be  there- 
by better  enabled  to  observe  the  country  through 
which  he  would  pass.  Sam  urged  him  to  accept  some 
of  his  savings  as  a  loan,  but  this  he  refused  to  do.  He 
had  some  money  left,  and  could  earn  more  when  he 
needed  it. 

At  ten  o'clock  Mr.  Gross  returned,  feeling  very 
jovial.  He  had  attended  to  their  former  home,  and 
arranged  to  have  the  futniture  moved  up  the  next 
day.  Then  he  had  gone  down  town  and  evidently 
stimulated  to  his  usual  extent. 

When  he  heard  of  Phillip's  quick  resolve,  he  was 
surprised,  and  half  regretted  that  he  had  been  so 
abrupt  in  the  matter ;  but  the  young  man  was  pleas- 
ant about  it,  thinking  it  best  to  show  no  annoyance 
and  thus  part  more  like  friends;  and  insisted  that, 
since  he  always  intended  to  go  out  west  anyway,  he 
thought  it  better  to  go  now  when  he  had  the  best 
months  in  the  year  for  traveling  before  him. 

The  next  morning  he  went  back  to  the  school  to  say 
good-bye  to  teachers  and  schoolmates;  and  he  was 

180 


A  GOOD  FRIEND  GONE  FOREVER 

happy  to  see,  in  this  moment  of  parting,  how  many 
warm  friends  he  had  made.  They  crowded  around 
him  and  expressed  their  regret  at  his  going  away,  in 
a  manner  that  showed  their  sincerity ;  and  he  carried 
with  him  the  good  wishes  of  them  all. 

Then  he  returned  to  the  house  and  bade  farewell  to 
Mrs.  Gross  and  Rosa;  both  kissed  him  and  wept  as 
he  left  them.  Adolph  Gross  was  indisposed  and  had 
not  yet  arisen,  so  Phillip's  last  recollection  of  him 
must  remain  that  of  the  evening  before  when  he  was 
in  his  friendliest  mood.  Sam  accompanied  him  for 
some  distance;  then  after  a  tearful  embrace  the  two 
friends  parted,  not  to  meet  again  until  after  many 
years ;  Sam  returned  to  his  work  and  Bertram  started 
for  the  great  West. 


181 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN  THE  WOODS  OF  WISCONSIN. 

NE  quiet  frosty  morning,  late  in  No- 
vember, 1860,  two  men  were  driving 
ox  teams,  attached  to  homemade  sleighs 
heavily  laden  with  logs,  over  a  rough 
country  road  blazed  through  a  vast  stretch  of  hard- 
wood forest.  The  moist  breath  of  the  tugging  oxen 
rose  like  steam  in  the  frosty  air  and  decked  them  with 
hoary  down.  The  squeaking  of  the  sleighs  and 
crunching  of  the  heavy  cowhide  boots  of  the  two  driv- 
ers, accompanied  now  and  then  by  words  of  encour- 
agement or  direction  to  the  animals,  was  at  the  mo- 
ment all  that  could  be  heard.  Both  men  seemed  occu- 
pied with  their  own  thoughts. 

Presently  they  approached  a  steep  ascent  and  the 
foremost  load  stopped  until  the  other,  but  a  few  paces 
behind,  had  come  up.  Without  a  word,  as  though 
repeating  an  oft  recurring  act,  the  driver  of  the  rear 
team  unhitched  his  oxen,  drove  them  by  the  other  and 
hitched  to  the  front  end  of  the  heavy  pole.  Immedi- 
ately the  first  load,  now  drawn  by  the  four  powerful 
beasts,  began  the  ascent.  When  the  summit  was 
reached,  the  oxen  were  returned  for  the  other  load. 
As  soon  as  both  loads  had  been  drawn  up  the  hill,  and 

182 


"Two  men  were  driving  ox-teams" 


IN  THE  WOODS  OF  WISCONSIN 

each  yoke  hitched  to  its  previous  load,  they  again 
started.  Soon  after  a  sharp  decline  was  reached,  and 
the  drivers  could  be  seen  moving  to  the  rear  of  the 
runners  of  their  respective  sleighs  and  tripping  down 
the  brake  so  that  its  sharp  iron  point  could  dig  into 
the  compact  roadbed.  When  the  descent  had  been 
made,  the  brakes  were  again  raised  and  tipped  for- 
ward to  rest  upon  the  runner.  Scarcely  a  word  had 
been  exchanged  by  the  men  during  these  proceedings ; 
and  the  promptness  and  almost  mechanical  manner  in 
which  they  had  performed  the  little  manoeuvres 
showed  that  they  were  well  accustomed  to  the  work. 

But  now  there  lay  a  long  stretch  of  comparatively 
smooth  road  before  them,  and  the  rear  driver,  leaving 
his  team  to  follow  in  the  wake  of  the  other,  with  a 
few  quick  paces  placed  himself  at  the  side  of  his  com- 
panion, and  broke  the  silence  that  had  lasted  for  sev- 
eral miles,  with  the  words :  "I  can't  believe  it,  sure 
I  can't !  They  cannot  be  such  fools !" 

The  speaker  was  a  rather  tall,  wiry  built  young 
man,  about  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  His  companion 
was  several  years  his  junior  but  of  nearly  equal 
height.  Both  men  were  dressed  in  the  coarse  garb  of 
the  backwoods  farmer,  with  a  coonskin  cap  on  the 
head  and  heavy  cowhide  boots  on  the  feet,  and  showed 
by  their  weather-bronzed  faces,  their  horny  hands  and 
vigorous  movements,  that  they  were  accustomed  to 
hard  outdoor  work.  A  light  brown  mustache,  now 
covered  with  white  frost,  could  not  conceal  the  grave 
expression  of  the  mouth  of  the  younger  as  he  now 
turned  to  answer  his  companion. 

183 


PLUCK 

"And  yet,  Jack,  it  will  come,  incredible  as  it  may 
seem.  They  are  blind,  simply  blind.  A  desperate 
struggle  will  follow,  and  it  may  be  a  long  one ;  but  the 
northern  soldiers  will  continue  to  pour  forth  from 
city,  village  and  farms  long  after  the  resources  of  the 
south  have  been  exhausted,  and  the  result  will  be 
that  they  will  lose  the  right  to  keep  their  slaves  even 
in  the  states  where  it  is  now  not  disputed.  Mark  my 
words:  Sooner  or  later  the  crime  of  slavery  will 
bring  about  its  own  punishment  to  this  nation,  and  I 
fear  it  will  take  the  form  of  the  miseries  of  a  civil 
war.  But  I  tell  you,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  and  his 
eyes  blazed,  "before  that  war  is  ended  slavery  will  be 
blotted  out  in  the  United  States.  If  they  rebel  and 
make  war  against  our  government,  as  surely  as  Lin- 
coln lives  to  be  inaugurated  next  March,  as  surely  will 
he  free  the  slaves !" 

"Yes,  Phil,  and  that  is  just  what  they  are  afraid 
he  will  do  any  way,  so  they  may  think  it's  best  to  take 
time  by  the  forelock  and  move  first." 

They  are  our  two  old  friends,  Phillip  Bertram  and 
Jack  O'Donnell,  whom,  after  a  lapse  of  nearly  nine 
years,  we  find  discussing  the  probabilities  of  civil 
war,  up  in  the  woods  of  Wisconsin.  Nor  is  it  diffi- 
cult to  recognize  them  again.  Both  have  developed 
into  splendid  types  of  young  manhood — active,  pow- 
erful and  courageous ;  but  the  outline  of  countenance 
and  its  expression  remain^  the  same,  albeit  more  fixed 
and  clear  cut. 

The  reader  may  ask,  why  do  we  find  them  here, 
and  why  have  you  not  told  us  of  their  experiences  in 
this  interval  of  nine  years.  Well,  I'll  explain :  When 

184 


IN  THE  WOODS  OF  WISCONSIN 

I  began  to  write  I  thought  it  an  easy  matter  to  bring 
all  the  incidents  in  the  life  of  my  hero  into  a  small 
volume;  now  I  find  it  would  take  several  of  them. 
Already  have  I  taken  up  more  of  my  readers'  time  in 
telling  of  his  boyhood  days  than  I  ought,  so  that  it 
leaves  me  insufficient  space  to  relate  much  of  his  life 
after  he  arrived  at  manhood's  estate.  And  yet,  there 
would  be  so  much  to  tell!  As  briefly,  therefore,  as 
may  be,  I  will  account  for  his  presence  where  we  now 
find  him  and  his  friend. 

When  Phillip  left  Philadelphia  in  the  spring  of 
1851,  he  at  first  intended  to  take  a  more  northerly 
direction ;  but  after  a  few  days'  journey  concluded  to 
strike  out  straight  westward.  He  would  make  his 
first  stopping  place  in  Ohio  if  he  could  find  employ- 
ment. Thus,  with  his  bundle  slung  on  a  stick  over 
his  shoulder  and  another  stout  stick  in  his  hand,  he 
marched  until  wearied,  day  after  day,  sometimes  fol- 
lowing a  railroad  track,  sometimes  a  highway,  and 
sometimes,  under  directions  of  some  settler,  striking 
out  across  country  to  make  a  short  cut  to  some  place 
he  wished  to  see.  At  the  small  towns  or  villages  he 
passed,  he  always  got  directions  as  to  the  best  course 
to  take.  Sometimes  he  would  stop  when  labor  offered 
to  work  for  a  week  or  two,  to  replenish  his  funds. 
Sometimes  he  would  travel  a  stretch  by  rail,  again  by 
boat,  little  caring  if  it  brought  him  out  of  his  course ; 
but  the  greater  part  of  the  trip  was  made  on  foot. 
When  he  finally  reached  Pittsburg  it  was  July.  He 
remained  three  days  in  that  city,  then  resumed  his 
journey. 

185 


PLUCK 

It  was  near  the  the  end  of  August  when  one  even- 
ing he  stopped  at  a  small  village  not  far  from  Me- 
dina, Ohio.  The  hot  months  had  told  on  him  and  he 
was  getting  tired  of  tramping.  That  same  evening  a 
farmer  enquired  of  the  proprietor  of  the  little  hotel 
where  he  was  stopping  if  he  knew  of  any  hands  he 
could  hire  to  work,  as  the  apples  were  ripening  fast 
and  he  needed  help.  Phillip,  overhearing  the  ques- 
tion and  the  negative  answer  of  the  landlord,  spoke 
up :  "I  am  willing  to  work  for  a  while  if  you  will 
try  me." 

"You !"  eyeing  him  closely,  "Well,  how  much  do 
you  want  ?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  can  do  your  work,  nor 
what  my  labor  would  be  worth." 

"Well,  I'll  try  you  and  pay  what  I  consider  you 
are  worth.  Can  you  come  right  along  ?" 

"Yes,  on  those  terms  for  one  week;  then  we  will 
agree  on  wages  if  we  can." 

"Sharp,  eh !  All  right,  let  it  go  at  that.  Get  your 
duds  and  we'll  drive  home." 

*&fter  a  week's  trial  Phillip  hired  out  to  him  until 
the  following  spring,  and  got  his  first  acquaintance 
with  farm  labor  and  farm  life.  He  learned  much 
which  was  of  great  value  to  him  in  after  years.  His 
employer  was  a  bright,  keen  Yankee,  who  thoroughly 
understood  his  business,  and  Phillip  was  an  apt  schol- 
ar. In  the  spring,  although  reluctantly,  as  he  had 
learned  to  like  the  family  and  they  were  loath  to  have 
him  go,  he  resumed  his  journey.  He  had  concluded 
to  head  for  Milwaukee,  where  so  many  of  his  country- 
men had  gone,  and  then  undertake  to  do  whatever 

186 


IN  THE  WOODS  OF  WISCONSIN 

opportunity  offered.  His  employer  advised  him  to 
go  to  Cleveland  and  there  take  the  boat  around  the 
Great  Lakes  to  Milwaukee.  This  was  much  to  our 
friend's  taste,  as  it  was  the  cheapest  and  quickest 
course  for  him.  At  Cleveland  he  found  ready  em- 
ployment as  deck  hand,  and  "worked  his  passage"  in 
that  way  to  Milwaukee. 

In  those  early  days  farmers  drove  fifty  and  sixty 
miles  with  their  ox-teams  through  timber,  over  cor- 
duroy roads  and  frozen  swamps,  to  market  their  farm 
products  in  Milwaukee,  or  exchange  them  for  cloth- 
ing and  other  necessaries  of  life.  It  was  not  difficult, 
therefore,  at  the  stopping  places  where  they  usually 
put  up,  to  gain  information  about  the  surrounding 
country.  The  "prairie  farmers"  seemed  to  be  the 
most  prosperous  and  about  the  only  ones  in  need  of 
hired  help.  To  one  of  these,  living  on  what  is  still 
known  as  "Kock  Prairie,"  Phillip  hired  out.  His 
term  was  for  one  year,  but  he  stayed  nearly  three, 
and  probably  would  not  have  left  then  had  it  not 
been  for  the  fact  that  in  the  second  winter  his  old 
friend  Jack  O'Donnell  unexpectedly  "dropped  in." 

Mrs.  O'Donnell,  who  had  been  gradually  failing 
for  some  time,  died  in  the  late  summer  and  left  her 
little  possessions  all  to  her  grandson.  Her  savings 
were  much  more  than  she  had  ever  admitted,  and  the 
shanty  and  small  lot  sold  at  a  good  price,  so  that  the 
total  inheritance  amounted  to  over  sixteen  hundred 
dollars.  Jack  promptly  resigned  his  position  and 
went  to  join  his  old  friend  in  the  West. 

That  winter  they  looked  about  and  finally  pur- 
chased a  tract  of  320  acres  of  unimproved  timber 

187 


PLUCK 

land.  Phillip's  savings  for  nearly  three  years  and 
Jack's  whole  inheritance  just  covered  the  purchase 
price,  but  it  left  Phillip  considerably  in  debt  to  Jack. 
Next  season  they  again  worked  out  to  get  means  for 
a  start.  In  the  fall  they  built  a  log  house  and  stable, 
bought  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  started  to  clear  their  land. 
They  "batched"  together,  lived  economically  and 
worked  "like  slaves." 

"Jack,"  Phillip  often  said,  "this  land  will  repay 
all  our  labor ;  if  we  can  pull  through  it  will  make  us 
both  wealthy  men  in  time." 

"Yes,  but,  Phil,  we'd  a  got  there  quicker  if  we  had 
bought  prairie." 

"May  be,"  the  other  would  answer,  "but  the  prairie 
is  so  monotonous;  give  me  the  forest  with  its  hills 
and  valleys,  and  I  can  be  happy." 

And  they  worked  and  prospered.  One  day  Phillip 
received  a  letter  from  his  sister  Eda.  It  was  full  of 
exciting  news.  Father  and  mother  were  well.  Mr. 
Baldwin  had  resigned  as  consul,  owing  to  ill-health, 
and  expected  to  be  relieved  from  duty  soon.  Then 
they  were  coming  to  America.  And  Mr.  Baldwin 
had  sold  his  house  in  Detroit  and  might  locate  in 
Milwaukee,  where  he  had  a  brother  living.  At  any 
rate,  they  would  go  there  on  a  visit  first.  And  then, 
with  her  parents'  consent,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baldwin  had 
formally  adopted  her  as  their  daughter.  The  letter 
was  full  of  tender  thoughts  of  the  parents  she  must 
leave,  and  a  warm  affectionate  heart  breathed  from 
every  line. 

Of  course  such  news  set  Jack  as  well  as  Phillip 
afire.  Eagerly  they  discussed  the  subject,  speculated 

188 


IN  THE  WOODS  OF  WISCONSIN 

on  the  chances,  and  waited  impatiently  for  the  next 
letter.  Nor  was  it  long  in  coming.  Three  months 
after  the  Baldwins  arrived  in  Milwaukee,  and  Phil- 
lip prepared  to  go  to  see  his  sister.  Jack  was  bound 
to  go  with  him.  So  they  arranged  to  have  their  stock 
taken  care  of,  and,  with  their  bundles  on  their  backs, 
started  out  on  a  November  morning  for  Milwaukee. 
For  young  men  like  these  two  it  was  but  a  few  days' 
journey,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  they 
were  only  nine  miles  from  the  city.  Here,  however, 
something  happened  to  delay  them. 

A  man  was  chopping  cordwood  near  the  roadway, 
and  was,  just  as  our  friends  came  up,  lustily  swing- 
ing his  ax,  cutting  down  an  old  burr  oak. 

"Good  afternoon!"  Phillip  cheerily  called  out  as 
he  stopped,  "about  how  far  is  it  to  Milwaukee  ?" 

The  ax  came  down  and  was  left  to  stick  where  it 
struck,  while  the  chopper  turned  around  to  face  his 
questioner  with  "Well,  just  about" — and  he  stopped 
and  stared  at  the  man  standing  before  him — "nine 
miles,"  he  finally  concluded,  still  looking  steadily  at 
Phillip.  The  latter  was  looking  with  like  intensity 
at  the  woodchopper. 

"Who  are  you  ?"  came  from  the  one. 

"Phillip  Bertram,"  was  the  quick  response,  "and 
you  are  Joseph  Winter!" 

How  joyously  they  first  clasped  hands,  then  fol- 
lowing their  impulses,  embraced  like  brothers.  The 
memories  of  the  long  past  childhood  took  possession 
of  them.  "Come,  come  quick,"  Joseph  almost  shout- 
ed, clutching  Bertram  by  the  arm,  "Oh,  how  glad 
they'll  all  be  to  see  you." 

189 


PLUCK 

Our  friends  acompanied  him  to  his  home  but  a 
short  distance  away.  The  old  folks  and  the  other 
Winter  boys,  now  all  married  and  living  near  by, 
were  sent  for.  Of  course,  the  new-comers  had  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  the  day  and  the  night  with 
them ;  and  it  was  not  until  toward  morning,  when 
much  had  been  told  and  all  were  tired  out,  that  they 
retired  to  rest.  Next  day  Phillip  and  Jack  resumed 
their  journey. 

As  may  be  imagined,  the  young  man's  meeting  with 
his  sister  and  the  Baldwins  was  a  touching  one.  Jack 
stood  just  inside  the  door  and  for  a  time  appeared 
forgotten.  At  length,  Eda  noticed  him  standing  there, 
fumbling  his  hat.  "Phillip,  is  that  your  friend  ?"  she 
asked,  and  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  walked  up 
to  Jack,  saying,  "Of  course,  you  are  his  good  friend 
Jack  O'Donnell.  I  believe  I  would  have  known  you 
from  my  brother's  description  if  I  had  met  you  on 
the  street.  I'm  so  glad  you  came  with  him,"  and 
feelingly  she  shook  his  hand  and  led  him  forward  to 
be  introduced  to  her  foster  parents. 

It  was  a  happy  few  days  they  all  spent  together. 
Eda  had  developed  into  a  splendid  young  woman, 
self-possessed  and  sensible.  A  sweet  womanly  charm, 
like  perfume  the  rose,  seemed  to  envelop  her.  Jack 
was  "smitten"  past  redemption,  and  it  was  probably 
the  only  time  in  his  life  when  he  felt  the  crushing 
power  of  bashfulness.  However,  Eda,  with  great 
tact,  constantly  came  to  his  aid;  and  such  is  the  po- 
tency of  true  affection,  that  at  the  end  of  a  week, 
when  the  young  men  left,  she  needs  must  admit  to 

190 


IN  THE  WOODS  OF  WISCONSIN 

herself  that  he  was  the  nicest  young  man  she  had  ever 
met.  Well,  we'll  see  what  came  of  it  later. 

That  winter  and  next  spring  Phillip  taught  the 
district  school.  His  education  was  not  great,  but  it 
was  more  than  any  of  his  neighbors  could  boast ;  and 
sufficed. 

Nor  was  the  life  of  the  young  men  all  work  and  no 
play.  That  would,  indeed,  have  been  unnatural.  Every 
fall  came  the  "husking  bees,"  where  every  red  ear 
meant  a  kiss  from  the  girl  the  lucky  finder  liked  the 
best.  Then  at  eleven  o'clock  came  the  lunch,  to  be 
followed  a  little  later  by  the  dance  on  the  barn  floor, 
where  the  rustic's  squeeking  fiddle  and  the  "caller  off" 
held  sway.  There  also  were  the  winter  dances  at  the 
little  village  hall;  the  singing  school  evenings,  when 
the  church  choir  of  twenty  or  more  rehearsed  for  the 
holiday  festivals ;  there  were  also  many  "coon  hunts" 
when  the  hounds'  baying  made  the  woods  re-echo 
nearly  all  night ;  and  not  to  be  forgotten  the  spelling- 
bees  at  the  district  schoolhouses. 

Did  you  ever  attend  an  old-fashioned  country 
spelling-bee,  kind  reader?  Well,  if  you  didn't,  you 
missed  one  of  the  good  things  of  life.  Some  of  you, 
no  doubt,  have.  And  don't  you  remember  what  a 
great  old  time  we  always  had !  Some  of  the  older 
boys  would  hitch  to  the  big  bob  sleigh  with  its  box 
filled  with  straw  and  plenty  of  blankets.  In  we  all 
piled,  boys  and  girls — closely  we  snuggled  up,  to  keep 
warm,  of  course — at  the  neighbors  we'd  stop  to  pick 
up  enough  for  a  full  load,  and  away  we'd  go  amidst 
shouts  and  song  over  the  frosty  sparkling  snow,  the 
horses  jingling  the  bells  and  the  driver  happy  with 

191 


PLUCK 

his  best  girl  at  his  side.  Then  when  we  got  to  the 
schoolhouse,  and  other  loads  came,  and  the  fire  was 
started,  what  a  happy  joyous  crowd  it  would  be,  the 
schoolma'am — we  usually  had  a  schoolma'am — just  as 
giddy  as  the  rest  of  us.  Then  came  the  "spelling 
down"  where  we  all  stood  in  a  row  and  every  one 
that  missed  had  to  sit  down,  amidst  the  laughter  of 
the  others.  And  what  work  some  would  make  of  the 
spelling!  Then,  you  know,  there  were  always  some 
who  seemed  to  know  every  word  in  the  dictionary  and 
couldn't  be  spelled  down  ,  till  the  schoolma'am 
"floored"  them  with  some  such  jumble  of  consonants 
as  "Phthisic."  And  after  we  had  gone  through  this 
once  or  twice  or  oftener,  then  came  the  popcorn,  nuts 
and  the  like,  and  some  sweet  cider — and  sometimes 
hard.  And  the  ride  home !  I  can  hear  the  shouting 
yet,  though  it's  thirty  years  ago  since  I  was  one  of 
them,  and  "Come,  come  away,  the  school  bell  now  is 
ringing,"  still  echoes  in  memory's  refrain. 

Ah,  those  were  great  days !  What  did  we  care  for 
the  cold  or  occasional  tip-over  into  the  soft  snow  ? 

Yes,  indeed,  our  hero  and  his  friend  enjoyed  the 
sports  of  country  life  as  much  as  any,  and  many  a 
charmer's  eyes  grew  brighter  and  smile  more  inviting 
when  she  looked  upon  the  comely  youths. 

But  somehow  Phillip  remained  heart-whole.  An 
image  lurked  in  heart  and  memory  which  made  him 
immune  to  Oupid's  darts.  A  sweet  little  childish 
face,  with  blue  eyes  and  rosy  lips,  seemed  to  smile 
from  the  stars  as  of  a  summer  evening  he  would  sit 
dreamily  resting  after  a  hard  day's  labor,  and  hov- 
ered about  him  in  his  dreams.  How  often  he  had 

192 


thought  of  her  in  the  years  gone  by !  Dear,  sweet 
little  Bessie,  would  he  ever  see  her  again !  Was  she 
living,  or  had  her  spirit  already  fled  to  some  twinkling 
star  on  high ! 

Often  had  he  made  inquiries  about  Dr.  Lawrence. 
Gone  from  Boston  years  ago,  no  one  seemed  to  know 
his  whereabouts.  But  the  memory  of  the  child  he  had 
held  in  his  arms,  with  hers  clasped  about  his  neck 
and  her  cheek  to  his,  as  the  hour  of  parting  came, 
years  ago  in  New  York  City,  ever  revived  afresh  with 
each  recurring  awakening  of  spring.  And  as  for 
Jack,  well,  since  Eda's  image  had  come  into  his  life, 
his  fate  was  sealed. 

At  the  time  we  find  our  friends  driving  their  teams 
to  the  neighboring  village,  the  election  was  just  over. 
After  a  hard  fought  bitter  campaign,  the  "clown," 
the  "rail  splitter,"  as  the  south  then  contemptuously 
called  him,  the  "martyr,"  the  "immortal"  Lincoln, 
as  the  whole  nation  now  calls  him,  had  been  elected 
to  the  presidency.  The  rumbling  of  war  could  already 
be  heard,  as  of  distant  thunder,  and  the  question  of 
war  or  no  war  was  the  uppermost  subject  of  discus- 
sion throughout  the  north.  Northerners,  familiar 
with  their  latent  resources,  were  reluctant  to  believe 
in  the  possibility  of  the  south  attempting  to  secede. 
It  seemed  so  foolish ;  and  yet,  as  the  results  showed, 
it  took  four  years  of  struggle  and  a  legion  of  lives  to 
conquer  them.  The  south  underestimated  the  latent 
resources  and  stubborn  persistence  of  the  north,  and 
the  north  underestimated  the  bravery  of  the  men  they 
were  called  upon  to  fight. 

193 


PLUCK 

The  conversation  between  our  friends  ceased  for  a 
time  and  they  quietly  walked  on,  side  by  side.  After 
a  while  Jack  spoke  up:  "Phil,  if  war  should  come 
what  will  we  do  ?" 

"Well,  Jack,  let  us  wait  till  we  reach  the  bridge 
before  we  cross  it ;  we  cannot  do  more  than  our  duty, 
and  we  will  not  do  less,"  was  the  quiet  response. 

"True  for  you,  old  man,  an'  if  it's  fighting  they 
want  we'll  be  in  it,  we  will." 

Presently  they  arrived  at  the  village  and,  driving 
through  the  crude  sawmill  on  the  other  side,  unloaded 
their  logs  and  drove  to  the  little  hostelry  to  rest  and 
feed  their  beasts. 


194 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  MASS  MEETING  IN  GLAUBERS  HALL. 


w 


HEN  the  young  men  entered  the  little  room 
that  served  as  office  and  bar-room,  the  land- 
lord, a  round-faced  jovial  German    about 
fifty-five  years  of  age,  emerged  from  an  ad- 
joining room  and  greeted  them  heartily. 

"Well,"  he  said,  after  shaking  hands,  "I  am  awful 
glad  to  see  you  dis  day,  because,  you  see,  dere  is  an 
old  couple  chust  come  ofer  from  Ohermany  dat  is 
shtopping  here,  und  I  don't  know  wat  to  do  mit  dem." 
"Sure,  why  do  you  want  to  do  anything  with  them 
them  at  all?"  Jack  inquired,  laughing. 

"And  didn't  I  tell  you,  dey  ain't  got  no  place  to  go 
to.  Dhey  come  ofer  to  find  deir  boy  Ferdinand  und 
keep  house  for  him,  und  you  know  he  got  killt  a  year 
ago  wen  he  was  chopping  down  trees.  It's  too  bad, 
und  so  I  tought — but  wy  don't  you  sit  down?"  and 
he  quickly  placed  chairs  for  the  young  men  at  one  of 
the  tables  and  occupied  one  himself. 

"Katreena,"  he  called  to  his  wife  in  the  adjoining 
room,  "come  in  und  bring  us  some  beer  wile  I  talk 
mit  de  boys  about  old  man  Bauernfeind  und  his 
woman." 

195 


PLUCK 

"Yes,  Gottlieb,"  Katreena  cheerily  answered,  as 
she  complied  with  the  request.  "May  be  dey  can 
help  out." 

"Und  so  I  tought,"  the  landlord  resumed  his  con- 
versation of  before,  "if  you  boys  had  room  for  de  old 
couple  urid  could  keep  dem,  I  tink  dey  will  be  well 
wort  deir  keep." 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  Jack!"  Phillip  ex- 
claimed. "Here  was  I  wondering  half  the  way  to 
town  what  to  do  about  the  farm,  in  case  war  broke 
out,  and  wishing  I  had  some  one  here  to  care  for  it  if 
we  had  to  leave,  and  here  is  Gottlieb  with  his  old 
couple  come  as  though  snowed  down  from  the  heav- 
ens. Of  course,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  land- 
lord, "we'll  take  care  of  them,  and  they  would  have 
to  have  been  brought  up  altogether  differently  from 
what  I  believe  they  were  if  they  don't  earn  their  liv- 
ing. Bring  them  in  and  let  us  get  acquainted." 

The  landlord  and  his  wife  were  overjoyed ;  an  act 
of  charity  had  been  accomplished  and  a  load  taken 
from  their  shoulders  at  the  same  time.  The  old 
couple  were  brought  in  and  proved  to  be  still  quite 
active  and  of  average  intelligence.  When  the  boys 
left  the  village,  several  hours  later,  after  the  arrival 
of  the  bi-weekly  mail,  their  new  housemates  were 
safely  loaded  on  one  of  the  sleighs,  accompanied  by 
all  their  bags  and  baggage. 

Phillip  had  received  a  letter  from  Eda,  as  well  as 
his  weekly  newspaper,  the  Illinois  Staats  Zeitung, 
and  both  furnished  news  and  subject  for  discussion 
on  the  way  home.  The  paper  gave  a  clear  and  com- 
prehensive statement  of  the  political  situation,  while 

196 


THE  MASS  MEETING  IN  GLAUBER'S  HALL 

Eda's  letter  brought  the  news  of  the  feeling  in  Mil- 
waukee. "Mr.  Baldwin/'  she  wrote,  "who  keeps  well 
informed,  says  there  is  no  doubt  whatever  in  his  mind 
that  the  Southern  States  will  attempt  to  secede  even 
before  the  inauguration,  and  that  would  surely  be 
followed  by  war.  Oh,  I  hope  not,  because  even 
from  a  selfish  standpoint  it  would  be  ter- 
rible. I  know  you  and  Jack,  and  know  that  nothing 
could  keep  you  from  joining  the  army.  And  I  could 
not  even  say  to  you  'Don't  go !' '  She  was  a  warm- 
hearted, patriotic  girl,  and  when  Phillip  finished 
reading  her  letter  aloud,  winding  up  with  sending 
her  love  "to  you  and  Jack,"  that  emotional  Irishman 
was  wiping  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his  big  woolen 
mitten. 

"Read  that  again,  Phil,"  he  finally  said,  but  in- 
stead, his  friend  handed  him  the  letter  to  read  as  long 
and  as  often  as  he  liked. 

After  a  time  Jack  said,  "Say,  Phil,  don't  you  think 
she  would  write  to  me  if  you  asked  her  ?" 

"Can't  say,  why  don't  you  ask  her  yourself  ?" 

"Well" — from  Jack,  and  then  a  pause. 

"Say,  Phil,"  came  a  little  later,  "don't  you  think 
Eda  is  an  awful  good  girl  ?" 

"Sure  she  is,"  was  the  prompt  reply ;  "she's  a  dear, 
good  girl,  with  lots  of  good  sense  to  boot.  I'm  glad 
she  is  my  sister." 

"So  am  I !"  came  fervently  from  the  other. 

A  long  silence  followed.  At  last  Phillip  rather 
abruptly  said  to  his  companion,  "A  penny  for  your 
thoughts,  Jack."  The  latter  was  startled  and  deep 
red  suffused  his  bronzed  face. 

197 


PLUCK 

"Well,  I  was  just  thinking  of  telling  you  and  ask- 
ing your  advice.  I  believe  I  am  in  love  with  Eda," 
and  he  flushed  still  more  and  paused. 

"Well,"  Phillip  very  dryly  answered,  "I  don't  be- 
lieve anything  about  it,  I  know  it !" 

"And  you  would  not  oppose  a  coarse,  uneducated 
Irishman  aspiring  to  the  hand  of  such  a  sister  as 
that?"  his  friend  asked,  half  anxiously,  half  hope- 
fully. 

"Oppose  you,  Jack,  old  boy  ?"  Phillip  warmly  an- 
swered, throwing  his  right  arm  around  the  strong 
shoulders  of  his  friend,  "Of  all  the  men  under  the 
sun  that  I  know,  there  is  not  one  whom  I  would  sooner 
choose  as  husband  for  my  sister.  Haven't  I  known 
you  for  years;  and  do  you  suppose  I  haven't  found 
out  what  a  great,  rich,  living  kernel  of  manhood  is 
concealed  in  this  rough  old  shell !" 

Jack  seized  the  speaker's  other  hand  and  sat  silent, 
while  strong  emotions  surged  within  him.  At  length 
he  asked :  "Phillip,  and  do  you  think  she'll  have  me — 
I  mean  bye  and  bye,  when  we  have  our  farm  cleared 
nnd  a  good  home  for  her  ?" 

"Well,  that  I  don't  know ;  but  I  do  know  Eda  is  a 
true-hearted,  sensible  woman  who  will  find  the  true 
from  the  false,  and  if  you  love  her  you  may  well 
hope." 

Just  then  they  arrived  at  their  home,  both  young 
men  jumped  from  the  sleigh,  and  as  soon  as  Jack 
struck  the  ground  he  gave  a  shout  so  tremendous  that 
it  reverberated  through  the  forest  for  miles  around 
them.  The  old  people  were  frightened  and  Phillip 
exclaimed,  "What  did  you  do  that  for  ?" 

198 


THE  MASS  MEETING  IN  GLAUBER'S  HALL 
"Well,  if  I  hadn't  I'd  a-busted,"  was  the  happy  re- 

pty- 

The  old  people  soon  became  accustomed  to  their 
simple  duties.  Bauernfeind  assisted  in  taking  care 
of  the  live  stock,  and  did  the  house  chores,  while  his 
wife  proved  to  be  a  good  cook,  having  served  in  the 
family  of  a  "Gutsbesitzer"  when  a  young  girl.  Being 
newcomers,  they  were  able  to  give  much  later  news 
of  the  situation  of  affairs  in  Germany  than  Phillip 
possessed,  and  he  questioned  them  at  great  length  dur- 
ing the  long  winter  evenings. 

Mr.  Baldwin  had,  soon  after  Eda's  letter,  sent  a 
specific  request  that  Phillip  and  Jack  spend  the 
Christmas  holidays  with  his  family,  as  he  was  desir- 
ous of  discussing  certain  phases  of  public  affairs  with 
him,  especially  some  relating  to  his  countrymen ;  and 
the  young  men  accepted.  Milwaukee  could  now  be 
reached  by  railroad  from  a  village  but  nine  miles 
distant  from  our  friends'  farm,  but  the  trip  was 
roundabout  and  expensive.  Besides,  they  promised 
themselves  to  give  Winters  a  call,  and,  therefore,  pre- 
ferred to  make  the  trip  on  foot.  Again,  as  the  first 
time,  they  shouldered  their  bundles  and  started  out. 
After  stopping  with  their  old  friends  for  three  days, 
they  arrived  in  Milwaukee  toward  noon,  on  December 
20th,  1860. 

Mr.  Baldwin  had  purchased  a  commodious  house  on 
Prospect  Avenue,  and  our  friends  were  made  royally 
welcome.  The  now  elderly  couple  were  taking  life 
easy,  after  the  fashion  of  many  others  in  good  cir- 
cumstances, who  thought  best  to  retire  from  active 
labors.  Eda  was  the  picture  of  health,  and  her  hand- 

199 


PLUCK 

some,  laughing  face  mirrored  her  happy  soul.  Jack 
could  not  keep  his  eyes  from  following  her  every 
movement — he  was  entranced,  enchanted;  such  over- 
mastering feelings  swayed  him,  he  wanted  to  shout 
again  for  joy — or  weep  for  joy — he  couldn't  tell 
wffich — he  felt  like  flying  with  the  clouds — he  could 
whip  single-handed  a  whole  army — indeed,  he  could- 
n't have  described  just  how  he  felt — never  had  he  ex- 
perienced such  a  feeling  as  that  one  shy  look  and 
faint  squeeze  of  the  hand  awoke  in  him  at  the  mo- 
ment she  bade  him  welcome. 

All  afternoon  they  sat  conversing.  Mr.  Baldwin 
questioned  Phillip  long  on  the  general  attitude  and 
sentiment  among  the  Germans  in  relation  to  slavery 
and  secession,  and  the  latter  gave  as  much  informa- 
tion as  his  knowledge  of  the  German  character  and 
his  observations  enabled  him.  Little  did  they  dream 
that,  at  the  moment  they  were  conversing,  a  resolu- 
tion of  secession  had  already  passed  the  general  as- 
sembly of  South  Carolina,  and  was  soon  to  be  flashed 
over  the  wires  to  startle  and  alarm  the  north,  and 
awake  the  south  to  speedy  action. 

After  supper  Phillip  and  Jack  took  a  long  walk 
about  the  city.  Even  in  those  days  it  was  a  thriving 
place,  and  if  I  remember  correctly,  had  a  population 
of  about  sixty  thousand.  There  were  many  places 
of  amusement,  and  of  every  variety,  scattered  about 
the  city ;  and  the  sound  of  revelry  could  often  be  dis- 
tinctly heard  through  the  closed  doors.  The  snow  was 
about  twelve  inches  deep  out  in  the  country,  but  here 
it  was  beaten  hard  by  the  many  teams  and  pedestrians 
constantly  passing  over  it. 

200 


THE  MASS  MEETING  IN  GLAUBER'S  HALL 

After  walking  about  for  several  hours,  our  friends 
had  bent  their  footsteps  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Bald- 
win's home,  when,  on  passing  what  appeared  to  be  a 
large  saloon,  Jack  proposed  that  they  go  in  to  get  a 
glass  of  beer  before  retiring  for  the  night.  Phillip 
accepted  and  led  the  way. 

As  he  opened  the  door  a  strange  spectacle  met  his 
gaze.  Word  had  gone  around,  that  afternoon,  among 
the  factories  and  workshops,  that  a  great  German 
orator  would  address  his  countrymen  at  Glauber's 
Hall,  on  Third  Street,  in  the  evening.  All  were  in- 
vited and  a  good  time  promised.  The  orator,  in  fact, 
was  but  an  emissary  from  the  South,  of  whom  many 
had  been  sent  north  to  arouse  opposition  to  the  gov- 
ernment and  a  sentiment  favorable  to  the  Southern 
cause.  A  large  crowd  had  responded — all  Germans 
or  German- Americans,  and  all  belonging  to  the  poorer 
classes.  They  were  seated  around  the  tables  drinking 
their  "shoppens"  of  beer  and  smoking  strong  tobacco. 
The  speaker  had  mounted  a  small  platform  erected  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  large  room,  and  had  addressed 
them  in  oily,  smooth  terms,  seasoned  with  much  flat- 
tery, and  calculated  to  put  them  in  a  susceptible 
frame  of  mind.  After  being  cheered  several  times 
and  awaking  loud  laughter  at  another  by  relating  a 
droll  story,  he  grew  bolder,  and  gradually  and  almost 
imperceptibly  began  to  drift  into  his  well-prepared 
arguments  in  favor  of  the  right  of  secession  and  the 
extension  of  slavery. 

For  some  little  time  there  had  been  murmurs  of 
disapproval,  and  the  speaker  would  have  taken  warn- 
ing but  for  the  fact  that  the  sound  of  his  own  voice 

201 


PLUCK 

made  the  rumbling  inaudible  to  him.  At  the  moment 
Phillip  opened  the  door  at  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
he  had  just  reached  his  climax,  and  also,  as  the  result 
showed,  the  height  of  audacity,  in  that  audience.  In 
thundering  voice  he  proclaimed  the  right  of  secession 
and  the  right  to  hold  the  "black  dogs"  as  slaves. 

This  was  more  than  his  hearers  would  bear. 
"Never !"  came  from  a  hoarse  throat  on  the  left.  "By 
hell,  no !"  shouted  a  brawny  blacksmith  on  the  right, 
springing  to  his  feet.  "Put  him  out,"  "Kill  the  dog," 
"Nieder  mit  dim,"  came  from  all  parts  of  the  room, 
and  a  dozen  jumped  from  their  seats  to  seize  the  of- 
fender. 

Phillip  saw  the  aroused  condition  of  his  country- 
men and  knew  that  prompt  action  alone  might  save 
them  from  going  too  far.  Quick  as  thought  he  started 
to  the  front,  with  ready  force  pushing  aside  those  im- 
peding his  way,  and,  ere  the  foremost  had  reached 
the  speaker,  he  stood  at  his  side  and,  with  his  right 
hand  outstretched,  shouted  "Halt,  Landsleute!" 

What  was  it!  Was  it  the  voice  of  the  speaker — 
the  suddenness  and  daring  of  the  act ;  was  it  the  steely 
glitter  of  the  eye  or  the  force  of  determination  por- 
trayed by  face  and  bearing;  or  was  it  the  combined 
effect  of  the  whole:  The  crowd  stopped,  all  sound 
ceased  instantly,  and  every  eye  was  fixed  with  both 
astonishment  and  admiration  upon  the  courageous 
young  man.  "Who  is  he  ?"  was  the  mental  question 
of  each ;  "He  is  a  German,  because  he  speaks  our  lan- 
guage; he  is  not  rich,  because  his  clothes  are  coarse 
and  plain  like  ours."  But  already  his  voice  could 
he  heard  again.  Warm,  clear,  deliberate  and  incisive 

202 


•Halt,  Landsleute !'  " 


THE  MASS  MEETING  IN  GLAUBER'S  HALL 

came  his  words,  and  a  trace  of  disdain  could  be  felt 
ringing  in  them : 

"Would  you  soil  your  hands  on  the  skunk  because 
he  has  insulted  your  honor  ?  Such  as  he  can  neither 
traduce  German  character  nor  inocculate  moral  poison 
into  German  blood.  Let  him  speak,  and,  if  need  be, 
I  will  answer  him";  then,  turning  to  the  speaker, 
who  stood  pale  and  cowering  at  his  side,  he  added, 
"Proceed,  sir,  finish  your  speech,  but  I  warn  you  that 
liberty  of  speech  and  license  of  speech  are  two  dis- 
tinctly different  things,  and  that  my  countrymen  will 
never  be  traitors !" 

But  the  orator  had  had  enough.  He  realized  that 
he  had  escaped  a  most  dangerous  situation  which  his 
own  rashness  had  provoked;  so  that,  stammering  a 
few  excuses  to  the  effect  that  he  had  not  really  meant 
that  they  should  go  against  their  government,  and  the 
like,  he  took  advantage  of  the  proprietor's  protecting 
lead  and  escaped  through  the  side  door. 

Phillip  had  hardly  moved  his  position.  With  lips 
firmly  compressed  and  scorn  and  contempt  in  his 
looks,  he  had  listened  to  the  speaker's  but  half  coher- 
ent excuses.  But,  as  the  last  trace  of  the  fellow  dis- 
appeared, he  slowly  turned  and  faced  the  eyes  of  all 
bent  on  him  with  varied  expressions.  And,  as  he 
looked  at  the  swarthy,  honest  faces  of  these  sons  of 
toil  that  had  just  spurned  treason,  a  happy  smile  il- 
lumined his  features. 

Presently  some  one  muttered,  "Answer."  It  was 
quickly  taken  up  by  others,  until  lusty  and  loud  came 
the  call  for  Phillip  to  "Answer"  the  previous  speak- 

203 


PLUCK 

er's  arguments.  He  waved  them  to  silence,  then 
again,  as  before,  he  addressed  them  in  German. 

"Answer  him  ?"  "Aye,  I  could  do  so  fully,  abso- 
lutely, and  to  you  convincingly,  in  just  three  words : 
'Ihr  seid  Deutsche !' ' '  He  paused,  that  his  meaning 
might  percolate  into  their  minds.  Then,  as  if  to  as- 
sist them,  or  in  explanation,  he  continued :  "Treason, 
rebellion,  revolution  against  a  just  government  is  a 
plant  that  has  never  grown  on  German  soil!  Love 
of  country,  loyalty  to  government,  obedience  to  its 
authority  are  the  only  blossoms  the  German  heart 
cherishes,  and  they  are  the  blossoms  of  a  plant  spring- 
ing from  the  seed  of  God's  Fourth  Commandment: 
'Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother,  that  it  may  go 
well  with  thee  and  thy  days  be  long  upon  earth.' 

"For  generations  obedience  has  been  the  clarifying 
fire  that  has  made  the  Teuton  the  peer  of  any  of 
God's  creatures,  able  to  conquer  himself  and  command 
others.  Obedience  to  the  parent,  to  the  just  authority 
of  the  government,  next  to  obedience  to  the  One  on 
High,  has  been  the  strengthening  tonic  of  the  moral 
man.  It  flows  in  the  German's  veins  by  inheritance, 
he  absorbs  it  in  his  mother's  milk,  it  is  the  food  of  his 
youth,  and  manhood,  and  old  age.  It  fosters  patriot- 
ism in  his  heart,  it  brings  to  him  strength  and  self-re- 
liance." 

The  longer  he  spoke,  the  slower  and  more  impres- 
sive became  his  words.  A  dead  silence  reigned,  every 
eye  was  fixed  on  the  speaker,  and  the  breath  of  the  lis- 
teners came  bated  and  repressed. 

"For  many  generations  has  the  German  fought  ter- 
rific struggles,  and  the  most  terrible  were  those  that 

204 


THE  MASS  MEETING  IN  GLAUBER'S  HALL 

appeared  little  upon  the  surface.  His  character  has 
become  set  and  firm,  his  force  tremendous !  His  next 
war  will  prove  it;  with  irresistible  strength  and  un- 
questioning obedience  to  his  leaders,  he  will  simply 
seize  victory,  and  will  add  such  lustre  to  his  name,  the 
world  o'er,  that  instead  of  'Dutchman'  being  applied 
to  him  in  contempt,  it  will  be  looked  upon  forever 
after  as  a  badge  of  honor." 

How  their  eyes  sparkled  and  their  bosoms  thrilled 
as  they  heard  these  prophetic  words ;  and  it  was  only 
eleven  years  later  that  the  German  nation  won  such 
remarkable  victories  over  the  French,  and  gained  its 
splendid  recognition  and  standing  in  the  world. 

"Are  you  answered  ?  Do  you  know  now  why  seces- 
sion, why  rebellion  is  wrong  ?"  he  suddenly  asked  in 
clarion  tones.  "Your  heart,  your  blood  cries  back  the 
answer !  If  war  should  come,  which  may  God  forbid, 
do  you  know  where  you  will  stand — for  the  Union,  or 
against  it — for  your  new  Heimath  or  against  her? 
Again  let  your  heart  and  blood  answer  while  you  sing 
with  me  a  little  song." 

Up  to  now  the  silence  had  remained  unbroken ;  the 
audience  was  spellbound;  each  seemed  to  hear  drop 
from  the  speaker's  lips  the  very  words  which  echoed 
his  own  thoughts.  As  now  he  ceased  speaking — the 
intense  fire  of  his  aroused  soul  burning  into  their  own, 
his  magnificent  form  erect,  his  whole  presence  com- 
manding, compelling  admiration — and  began  in  a 
strong,  rich  baritone  to  sing  that  song  which  above  all 
others  stirs  the  latent  fires  of  patriotism  in  the  Ger- 
man's heart : 

205 


PLUCK 

• 
"Es  braust  ein  Ruf  wie  Donnerhall, 

Wie  Schwert  Geklirr  und  Wogenprall," 

he  got  as  far  as  the  chorus  of  the  first  stanza  before 
the  audience  awoke  sufficiently  to  become  capable  of 
joining  in  the  song;  but  when  they  finally  did,  and 
when  the  spell  was  fully  broken,  it  seemed  as  though 
ten  thousand  lusty  throats  vere  vying  to  outdo  each 
other,  so  great  was  the  desire  to  give  relief  to  the  pent 
up  feelings.  One  fellow  accidentally  poked  his  elbow 
through  a  window,  and  it  was  afterward  generally 
claimed  and  believed,  that  it  was  caused  by  the  awful 
shouts  of  hurrah  that  arose,  when,  after  the  last  verse 
had  been  sung,  the  big  blacksmith  mounted  a  table, 
and,  swinging  his  hat,  shouted,  "Wir  sind  fuer  Frei- 
heit  und  Union!"  (We  are  for  Freedom  and  the 
Union ! )  "Hip,  hip,  hurrah— h— h !" 

While  the  blacksmith  was  leading  the  hurrahs, 
Phillip  had  opportunity  to  slip  out  through  the  side 
door,  where  Jack,  who  had  been  an  amazed  spectator 
of  the  whole  brief  occurrence,  joined  him  as  soon  as 
he  found  his  friend  had  left  the  place. 

"Phil,"  he  said,  as  they  hurried  along,  "I  never 
heard  a  better  speech  in  my  life !  What  did  you  say 
to  them,  anyway  ?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  now,  but  I  fear  it  was  enough  to 
make  several  more  widows  than  there  might  have 
been,  in  case  we  should  have  war,"  Phillip  answered 
soberly. 

The  noise  of  the  singing  and  shouting  in  the  hall 
had  penetrated  to  the  outside  and  must  have  been 
heard,  like  the  rumbling  of  thunder,  several  blocks 

206 


THE  MASS  MEETING  IN  GLAUBER'S  HALL 

away.  Our  friends  met  a  policeman  running  to  inves- 
tigate the  disturbance,  and  two  reporters  for  the  daily 
papers  followed  closely  at  his  heels.  They  paid  no  at- 
tention, however,  and  proceeded  swiftly  on  their  way. 

Next  morning,  while  the  family  were  seated  at  the 
breakfast  table,  a  newsboy  brought  the  Morning  Sen- 
tinel. Mr.  Baldwin  adjusted  his  glasses  to  glance 
at  the  headlines. 

"What's  this !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  caught  sight  of 
the  extra  large  display  type  at  the  head  of  the  first 
column,  "  'SOUTH  CAROLINA  HAS  SECEDED 
FROM  THE  UNION.  Ordinance  of  secession 
passed  by  its  legislature.  Other  states  expected  soon 
to  follow!'  There,  it  has  come;  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it, 
and  war  will  follow  also."  Then,  as  he  caught  sight 
of  another  headline,  "And  here,  'THE  GERMANS 
ARE  LOYAL.  Remarkable  scene  at  Glaubers  Hall 
last  night!' '  Phillip  touched  Jack's  elbow  to  enjoin 
his  silence.  "Of  course  they  are  loyal,  who  ever 
doubted  it !"  Mr.  Baldwin  interrupted  himself ; 
then  a  moment  later,  "but  really  this  must  have  been 
something  unusual,  listen :  'A  most  remarkable  scene 
was  enacted  at  Glauber's  Hall  last  night.  While  one 
of  these  southern  emissaries,  who  are  everywhere  at- 
tempting to  dissuade  our  citizens  from  loyalty  to  the 
Union,  was  addressing  a  large  body  of  German  labor- 
ers, and  had  aroused  their  ire  by  his  seditious  har- 
angue to  the  point  where  a  dozen  hands  were  out- 
stretched to  seize  him  and  throw  him  from  the  hall, 
a  young  man,  stranger  to  them  all,  suddenly  forced  his 
way  to  the  side  of  the  speaker  and  with  one  word 
stopped  the  uproar,  enabled  the  speaker  to  escape,  and 

207 


PLUCK 

then  addressed  a  few  words  to  the  audience  that  held 
them,  spellbound  until  he  started  them  to  sing  the 
'Wacht  am  Rhein.'  He  is  described  as  about  twenty- 
six  years  of  age,  strong,  athletic  of  build,  with  eyes 
and  voice  of  extraordinary  power  and  penetration; 
and  it  was  not  alone  what  he  said,  because  few  could 
give  a  coherent  statement  of  it,  but  the  absolute  con- 
viction of  their  truth  which  his  words  compelled,  and 
his  unaccountable  personal  influence  which  stirred  his 
hearers  to  unfathorned  depths.  The  pent  up  feelings 
found  relief  in  the  song,  and  in  the  tremendous  hur- 
rahs which  John  Maurer,  the  big  blacksmith,  evoked 
when  he  jumped  on  the  table  and  shouted,  'We  are  all 
for  Liberty  and  the  Union.'  During  the  hurrahing 
the  young  man  disappeared,  and  we  regret  that  his 
name  could  not  be  learned.  The  reporters  arrived 
in  time  to  hear  the  shouting,  which,  in  fact,  could  be 
easily  heard  several  blocks  away ;  but  too  late  to  get 
sight  of  the  stranger.  If  this  is  a  fair  sample  of  our 
foreign  born  elements,  we  can  rest  assured  that  if 
war  comes  it  will  find  us  a  united  North !" 

As  he  concluded  reading,  Mr.  Baldwin  cast  a  sharp, 
quick  glance  at  Phillip ;  but  seeing  no  sign  of  dis- 
turbance on  his  face,  as  his  guest  sat  quietly  sipping 
his  coffee,  he  made  no  further  inquiries  at  the  time. 
The  conversation  then  drifted  to  the  subject  of  the 
secession  of  South  Carolina,  and  more  or  less  gloom 
rested  on  them  all  during  the  remainder  of  the  meal. 

After  breakfast  Mr.  Baldwin  called  Phillip  to  the 
library  and  questioned  him  in  relation  to  the  occur- 
rence at  Glauber's  Hall.  Of  course,  the  latter  freely 
admitted  his  part  of  the  performance,  but  insisted 

208 


THE  MASS  MEETING  IN  GLAUBER'S  TTATJ. 

that  the  matter  was  greatly  exaggerated — except  the 
hearty  loyalty  of  the  crowd — and  requested  that  he 
might  be  saved  the  notoriety  which  the  disclosure  of 
his  name  would  bring. 

Mr.  Baldwin  then  consulted  him  as  to  the  timber- 
lands  in  his  section  of  the  state,  as  he  desired  to  buy 
some  for  an  investment ;  and  it  was  arranged  that,  on 
his  return  home,  Phillip  would  ascertain  the  best  bar- 
gains in  his  vicinity.  The  following  summer  he 
would  personally  inspect  the  land  and,  if  suited, 
would  purchase. 

Our  friends  extended  their  visit  until  shortly  after 
New  Year  and  then  reluctantly  returned  to  their 
home. 


209 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

AN  EXPERT  WITNESS. 

| HEY  arrived  at  their  neighboring  village 
in  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day,  very 
tired  from  their  long  tramp  through 
the  deep,  soft  snow,  and  concluded  to 
rest  for  an  hour  at  Gottlieb  Brauer's.  The  old  fellow 
greeted  them  heartily  and  served  up  the  best  he  had. 
Old  man  Bauernfeind  had  been  to  town  the  day  before 
and  reported  everything  safe  at  home,  so  that  our 
friends  felt  relieved  on  that  score  and  were  in  no 
hurry. 

After  a  little  while  Ebenezer  Newton,  the  Justice 
of  the  Peace,  and  proprietor  of  the  only  "store"  in 
the  village,  dropped  in.  He  was  a  typical  "York- 
Stater,"  who  had  settled  there  some  ten  years  before, 
and  had  done  well.  He  was  tall  and  lean,  with  a 
tuft  of  gray  whiskers  on  his  chin  and  a  good-natured 
twinkle  in  his  eye ;  he  was  shrewd,  but  honest  always, 
and  had  won  the  confidence  of  the  hundreds  of  Ger- 
mans who  settled  in  and  about  the  village.  After 
shaking  hands  he  sat  down  at  the  table  near  our 
friends  and  the  landlord,  and  commenced  to  question 
the  former  about  the  news  from  Milwaukee.  When 

210 


AN  EXPERT  WITNESS 

the  subject  was  temporarily  exhausted,  Phillip  asked 
what  the  news  at  home  was. 

"Oh,  not  much,"  Ebenezer  replied,  "the  parson 
preached  a  powerful  sermon  on  New  Year's  day  about 
the  duty  of  patriots,  and  Bill  Denton  and  Frank 
Peters  had  a  fight" — 

"Yes,"  quickly  broke  in  Gottlieb,  "und  Shquire 
Newton  he  wiolated  the  Constitution  of  de  United 
Shtates !"  and  a  broad  grin  covered  his  whole  face. 

Without  giving  the  squire  a  chance  to  make  denial, 
he  continued:  "You  know  Denton  und  Peters,  dey 
was  always  great  frients;  well,  before  Gristmas  dey 
got  to  quarreling  about  deir  oxen;  Bill  claimed  he 
had  de  best  und  Frank  he  claimed  he  had,  so  to  settle 
de  ting  dey  agreed  dat  Bill  should  get  hiss  oxen  und 
hitch  onto  de  load  of  logs  wat  Frank  had  left  at  de 
mill  de  day  before  because  dare  was  no  room  to  drive 
up  to  de  blace  ware  to  unload  dat  day,  und  Frank  he 
allowed  dat  if  Bill's  oxen  could  haul  dat  load  out  of 
de  deep  shnow — it  had  shnowed  und  drifted  a  good 
deal  since  de  day  before — den  Bill's  team  was  de 
best.  Well,  Bill  went  und  got  his  oxens,  und  Frank 
went  und  shlipped  a  chain  around  one  runner  and 
shpiked  de  ends  to  de  shlabs  so  dat  ten  yokes  of  oxens 
couldn't  move  it,  und  covered  it  all  mit  shnow.  Dare 
was  a  whole  crowd  round,  but  nobody  give  it  away. 
So  Bill  he  come  back  mit  his  oxen,  und  he  'lowed  it 
was  pretty  hard  pulling  dat  load  out  of  so  much 
shnow,  but  hiss  oxens  could  do  it.  He  hitched  dem 
up  and  shouted,  'Go  lang  Shpot — gee !  gee !  Brindle 
— wo — hah  dare — go  lang  dare!'  und  he  tried  de 
wip,  but  de  oxen  couldn't  move  it  more  dan  a  few 


PLUCK 

inches;  und  Bill  he  was  getting  red  in  de  face  und 
mad  at  de  oxens.  Pretty  soon  de  crowd  couldn't  hold 
back  any  longer  und  shouted  mit  laughter.  Den  Bill 
was  mad,  but  they  laughed  so  hard  he  began  to  sush- 
pect  some  tricks.  So  he  went  round  de  load  und 
kicked  de  shnow  away — den  all  to  oncet  he  saw  de 
chain,  und,  mitout  a  wort,  he  went  up  to  ware  Frank 
was  shtanding  laughing,  und  hit  him  shtraight  in  de 
face.  Den  Frank  had  Bill  arrested  und  Bill  called 
for  a  churey  trial.  Well,  de  new  schoolteacher,  he 
defended  Bill,  und  de  conshtable,  he  was  de  prose- 
cuting lawyer.  Dey  tried  de  case  in  de  back  end  of 
de  shtore  for  a  wile,  but  he  shtore  was  coldern'n  a 
barn,  so  dey  adjourned  to  de  shquire's  parlor.  De 
shquire  sat  at  de  center  of  de  table,  und  Bill  und 
Frank  were  near  de  opposite  ends  mit  deir  homemade 
lawyers.  Bill,  he  told  hiss  shtory  und  Frank  kept 
saying  every  little  wile,  'Dat  ain't  so,'  'Don't  you 
beliefe  dat,  shquire,'  until  Bill  got  made  und  wanted 
to  lick  him,  und  de  shquire  rapped  for  order.  Den 
de  lamp  was  brought  in  because  it  was  gittin'  dark." 

"But,  say,  ain't  you  gittin'  dry,  I  am  ?"  and  with- 
out waiting  for  an  answer  Gottlieb  got  up  and  re- 
filled the  glasses — then  continued : 

"Pretty  soon  it  was  Frank's  turn  to  tell  hiss  side, 
und  de  shquire  had  a  hard  time  to  keep  order.  All 
to  oncet  Bill  says,  says  Bill :  'You're  a  liar  und  I  can 
lick  you,'  und  bodh  jumped  up  und  at  it  dey  went, 
de  schoolmaster  pulling  back  on  de  one  und  de  con- 
shtable on  de  odher,  wile  de  chairs  tumbled  in  eWery 
direction.  The  shquire,  he  grabbed  de  lamp  und  hiss 
papers  und  yelled,  'Let  dem  fight  it  ouet,  let  dem 

212 


AN  EXPERT  WITNESS 

fight  it  ouet !'  Cliust  den  Bill  got  Frank  down  und 
den  deir  two  lawyers  pulled  Bill  off  und  kept  dem 
apart.' 

"Den  de  shquire  came  back  to  de  table,  set  down 
de  lamp,  fixed  his  glasses  shtraight  on  his  big  nose, 
uud  looked  at  de  time.  'Chentlemen  of  de  churey,' 
he  say  to  dem  solemnly,  'de  dignity  of  dis  court  has 
been  outraged !  You  are  discharged  from  de  furdher 
consideration  of  dis  case;  I  will  decide  it  myself!' 
Den,  turning  to  de  defendant,  he  said,  'You  got  licked, 
sir,  und  you  ought  to  got  licked  because  you  are 
guilty !  I  find  you  One  Dollar  und  Costs.  It  is  sup- 
per time  now  und  you  can  go  home,  but  to-morrow 
you  come  und  pay  up.  De  Court  is  adjourned.' ' 

Old  Gottlieb  related  this  amidst  much  merriment, 
nor  would  be  permit  the  squire  to  interrupt  him. 

"Well,"  said  Phillip,  with  mock  gravity,  when  the 
landlord  had  concluded,  "I  see  your  point:  The 
squire's  action  was  certainly  high  handed,  because 
right  of  trial  by  jury  cannot  lawfully  be  denied  us ; 
but  did  Frank  pay  up  next  day  ?" 

"Yes,"  smiled  the  squire,  "he  came  in  and  apolo- 
gized and  I  remitted  the  fine." 

"Well,  that  settles  it !  But  say,  squire,  did  I  ever 
tell  you  about  Gottlieb's  testimony  as  an  expert  wit- 
ness over  at  Fort  Akron  last  summer,  while  you  were 
east  ?" 

"Now  look  here,  Phil,  don't  give  de  shquire  an- 
odher  one  on  me,  or  I  can't  get  efen  at  all." 

"Let's  hear  it,"  the  other  urged,  and  Phillip  be- 
gan: 

213 


PLUCK 

"Last  year,  while  you  were  visiting  in  the  east,  we 
had  a  regular  temperance  wave  sweep  over  this 
county.  There  were  lecturers  here  from  another  state, 
and  great  virtuous  sentiment  aroused.  Complaint 
was  made  for  the  least  violation  of  the  excise  laws 
and  many  arrests  followed.  At  Fork  Akron  the  tee- 
totalers were  in  the  majority  and  the  village  board 
granted  no  license;  while  at  Jauer,  where  the  Ger- 
mans largely  predominate,  all  got  licenses  who  ap- 
plied. 

"Well,  the  wave  of  reform  struck  Jauer,  also,  but  it 
was  impossible  to  convict  there;  no  matter  what  the 
testimony,  the  jury's  verdict  was  sure  to  be  "not 
guilty."  Then  they  tried  a  different  course ;  warrants 
were  sworn  out  before  a  justice  at  Fort  Akron,  and  a 
number  of  convictions  followed.  One  of  the  last  to 
be  arrested  before  the  reform  wave  subsided  was 
Gottlieb's  old  friend,  Adam  Geiger,  on  complaint  of 
selling  intoxicating  drink  to  a  minor.  Old  Billy 
Rooney,  you  know  him,  a  fine  old  lawyer,  was  still 
district  attorney — and  his  heart  was  not  wholly  with 
these  prosecutions;  but  he  did  his  duty.  Rooney 
knew  he  could  prove  the  sale  of  lager  beer  to  the 
minor,  and  he  got  it  into  his  head  that  his  friend, 
old  Gottlieb  here,  who  everybody  knows  has  the  big- 
gest experience  with  drinking  beer  of  any  of  them, 
had  best  be  subpoenaed  as  a  witness  for  the  state,  to 
prove,  what  Rooney  supposed  everybody  knew  to  be 
the  fact,  that  lager  beer  was  intoxicating. 

"Old  Adam  got  young  Dan  Weymer  to  defend  him. 

"Well,  when  the  trial  came,  the  state  proved  beyond 
question  that  the  defendant  had  sold  lager  beer  to  the 

214 


AN  EXPERT  WITNESS 

minor,  and  it  only  remained  to  prove  that  it  is  intox- 
icating to  secure  a  conviction.  So  Mr.  Rooney  called 
Gottlieb  to  the  stand  and  had  him  sworn. 

'What  is  your  name  ?'  asked  Rooney. 

'You  know  dat  well  enough,  wat  for  you  ask  ?'  re- 
torted the  witness. 

'Of  course  I  do,  Gottlieb,'  the  other  answered 
soothingly,  'but  you  know  in  court  we  must  tell  every- 
thinng,  so  that  the  judge  may  know,  too.  Your  name 
is  Gottlieb  Brauer,  isn't  it  ?' 

'I  guess  so,'  smiled  Gottlieb. 

'Your  Honor,  I  object,  that  is  a  leading  question' 
— came  from  the  defendant's  attorney." 

"The  Court" :  'You  must  not  ask  leading  questions, 
Mr.  District  Attorney.' 

"Mr.  Rooney,  to  witness" :  'Where  do  you  live  ?' 

"Gottlieb" :  'Don't  chu  know  ?  How  did  you  find 
me?' 

'Yes,  yes,  but  just  answer,  Gottlieb,  as  though  I 
didn't  know  anything.' 

'Guess  dat's  true,  "was  the  quick  reply,  while  the 
jury  laughed,  and  the  justice  called  for  order." 

'Now  then,  Gottlieb,'  "Mr.  Rooney  proceeded, 
joining  in  the  laugh  at  his  expense,"  'we  understand 
each  other.  How  old  are  you  ?' 

'Pretty  near  fifty-sefen.' 

'Where  were  you  born  ?' 

'In  Chermany,  of  course !' 

'How  long  have  you  lived  in  this  country  ?' 

'Well,  let  me  see,  we  landed  in  '42.' 

'And  you  lived  here  ever  since  ?' 

'In  Wisconsin  ?    No,  if  I  lif  here  since  '45.' 

215 


PLUCK 

'What  is  your  business  ?' 

'Don't  chu  know  ?' 

'Now,  Gottlieb,  go  right  on  and  answer  my  ques- 
tions.' 

'Well,  I  run  a  hotel  und  keep  a  saloon.' 

'Where  ?' 

'Over  in  Cheffers.' 

'How  long  have  you  been  in  the  saloon  business  ?' 

'Chust  twelf  years  last  May.' 

'What  do  you  sell  in  your  saloon  ?' 

'Oh' — "smiling" — 'pop,  soda  water,  tzigars,  und 
so.' 

'Don't  you  sell  whisky  ?' 

'Yes.'  " 

'And  wine  ?' 

'Yes.' 

'And  lager  beer  ?' 

'Oh,  yes.' 

'How  long  have  you  sold  lager  beer  ?' 

'All  my  life  pretty  near.' 

'You  mean  as  long  as  you  have  been  in  the  saloon 
business  ?' 

'No,  wen  I  was  in  Chermany  yet  I  helpt  my  f  adher 
who  had  a  Gasthaus.' 

'You  drink  beer  yourself,  don't  yon  ?' 

'Yes,  sir !' 

'How  long  have  you  drank  beer  ?' 

'All  my  life.' 

'How  often  do  you  drink  it  ?' 

'Efery  day.' 

'How  much  do  you  drink  a  day  ?' 

'Oh,  I  don't  know — nefer  kept  drack.' 

216 


AN  EXPERT  WITNESS 

'Well,  about  how  much  ?' 

'Dat  depends  on  de  drade.  Wen  de  drade  is  poor 
I  don't  take  only  a  little.' 

'Well,  how  much  do  you  take  when  it  is  poor,  and 
how  much  when  it  is  good  ?' 

'Oh,  wen  dare  ain't  much  doin'  I  takes — maybe 
dwenty — maybe  less,  maybe  more.' 

'And  when  the  trade  is  good  ?' 

'Well,  maybe  forty  or  fifty — maybe  it's  more — 
you  see  I  don't  drink  dem  great  bigg  schooners.' 

'But' — and  Phillip  turned  to  Gottlieb,  who  sat 
quietly  tipped  back  in  his  chair,  a  comical  grin  on  his 
face — "that  last  was  not  quite  true,  was  it  Gottlieb  ?" 

"Well,  I  meant  not  all  de  time,"  was  the  easy  re- 
joinder. 

"Well,  to  proceed.  Mr.  Rooney  looked  pleased  and 
the  jury  smiled.  Here  was  a  witness  who  knew  all 
about  beer,  sure !" 

'Now,  Gottlieb,  tell  this  jury  whether  lager  beer 
is  intoxicating  or  not.' 

'No,  sir!' 

'Eh  ?  I  asked  you  whether  from  your  experience 
lager  beer  was  intoxicating — would  make  a  man 
drunk?' 

'No,  sir!'  "again  came  the  answer,  prompt  and 
certain." 

'Mr.  Brauer,'  "says  Rooney,  slowly  and  impres- 
sively," 'you  have  stated  that  you  drink  sometimes 
forty  or  fifty  glasses  a  day' — 

'Yes,  sir,  I  tink  I  have  drinked  as  much  as  double 
dat,'  "the  witness  interrupted  proudly." 

217 


PLUCK 

'Forty  or  fifty  glasses  a  day  and  sometimes  double 
that,  and  do  you  say  it  never  made  you  drunk  ?' 

'No,  sir,  neffer!' 

"The  justice  glared  at  the  witness  over  his  specta- 
cles; the  jury  was  amazed;  and  Mr.  Rooney  dumb- 
founded. Then  he  gathered  himself  for  a  final  as- 
sault to  save  his  case.  Slowly  he  raised  his  long  fin- 
ger, and  pointing  it  at  the  witness,  close  to  his  face, 
he  very  solemnly  and  impressively  asked" : 

'Mr.  Gottlieb  Brauer,  do  you  mean  to  tell  this  jury 
under  oath,  that  lager  beer  is  not  intoxicating — that 
one  cannot  get  drunk  on  it  ?' 

Gottlieb  scratched  his  head,  turned  toward  the  jury 
and  rather  irritably  said,  'Well,  maybe — iff  a  man 
make  a  hogg  of  himself.' 

Squire  Newton  roared  and  asked  Gottlieb  how 
many  beers  a  man  could  take  a  day  without  "making 
a  hog  of  himself." 

But  the  landlord  wouldn't  answer ;  he  got  up  good- 
naturedly,  saying,  "I  suppose  I'll  nefer  hear  the  last 
of  dat  now  you  got  hold  of  it,"  and  proceeded  to  take 
another  "snitt." 


218 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


JACK  MAKES  A  TKADE. 


O 


|UR  friends  worked  hard  the  remainder 
of  the  winter;  they  enlarged  their  clear- 
ing, hauled  logs  to  the  mill  to  be  cut 
into  lumber,  and  prepared  to  build  a 
larger  house  in  the  spring.  The  old  log  dwelling 
would  do  as  store  room  for  the  many  appliances 
which  accumulate  on  a  farm,  and  a  part  of  it  could 
be  used  for  a  hen  house.  An  addition  to  the  log 
stable  was  also  completed  before  spring.  Twice  a 
week  they  received  news  from  the  outside  world  and 
were  thus  kept  informed  of  political  events.  Lincoln 
had  been  inaugurated,  and  many  of  the  southern 
states  had  seceded,  when  finally  spring  arrived.  All 
news  reached  them  somewhat  delayed,  and  they  heard 
of  President  Lincoln's  call  for  75,000  volunteers  at 
the  same  time  they  learned  of  the  first  shot  fired  on 
Fort  Sumter. 

"Shall  we  enlist  ?"  Jack  at  once  asked.  But  Phillip 
shook  his  head:  "Not  yet,  and  never,  unless  we  are 
needed."  But  the  next  Sunday,  after  church  services, 
a  mass  meeting  was  held  at  the  little  village,  and 
many  announced  their  readiness  to  volunteer.  !No 
action  was  taken,  however,  for  want  of  a  leader. 

219 


PLUCK 

The  next  important  news  came  a  few  days 
later,  and  was  to  the  effect  that  nearly  300,000 
had  responded  to  the  president's  call  for 
75,000,  and  a  wave  of  enthusiasm  swept  the 
community.  Soon  came  news  of  the  seizure  by 
many  of  the  southern  states  of  the  government  ar- 
senals, mints,  custom  houses,  etc.,  within  their  bor- 
ders, and  finally  the  news  of  small  battles  at  Big 
Bethel,  Booneville,  Carthage,  and  other  places. 

All  doubt  had  vanished — it  meant  war!  Phillip 
delivered  a  patriotic  address  and  asked  that  all  single 
men  be  organized  into  a  company  and  drilled  by  one 
of  the  many  German  veterans  among  them.  An  old 
sergeant  was  found,  familiar  with  military  tactics, 
who  was  willing  to  undertake  it.  Forty-seven  able- 
bodied  young  men  enrolled.  In  spite  of  all  resist- 
ance Phillip  was  chosen  captain  and  Jack  sergeant. 
Evening  after  evening  they  met  on  the  village  green 
and  drilled  during  that  spring  and  early  summer,  to 
be  ready  when  duty  called. 

During  the  same  period  they  dug  their  cellar, 
hauled  stones  and  sand,  built  the  foundation  walls 
with  the  aid  of  old  man  Bauernfeind,  who  had  some 
experience  as  a  stone  mason  in  Germany ;  and  finally 
erected  a  neat  and  roomy  frame  house.  There  are 
always  some  men  skilled  in  carpenter  work  in  every 
such  community,  and  neighbors  help  each  other;  so 
that  when  completed  our  friends  could  rejoice  at  the 
small  outlay  in  cash  which  it  had  cost  them. 

Mr.  Baldwin  was  expected  to  come  soon,  and  he  had 
arranged  to  bring  his  wife  and  Eda  with  him — to 
Jack's  intense  delight.  The  young  men  were  to  meet 

320 


JACK  MAKES  A  TRADE 

them  at  the  nearest  railway  station,  about  nine  miles 
away. 

One  day,  while  they  were  putting  a  coat  of  cheap 
paint  on  the  house,  Jack  suggested  that  if  they  only 
had  a  team  of  horses  and  a  light  spring  wagon  it 
would  be  so  much  nicer  to  bring  their  friends  home 
with  than  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  a  heavy  wagon.  He 
knew  of  a  second-hand  wagon  that  would  do  nicely  if 
it  was  fixed  up  a  little,  and  Old  Slater  had  just 
broken  in  his  colts  that  winter  and  might  be  induced 
to  trade  his  old  span  of  horses  for  some  cows,  or  some- 
thing else.  Jack  had  evidently  thought  considerable 
on  the  subject — I'll  leave  the  reader  to  guess  the 
cause. 

"Well,"  Phillip  said,  "I  don't  know  but  what  you 
are  right.  How  much  will  the  spring  wagon  cost?" 

"Probably  twenty  dollars,  and  three  or  four  more 
for  paint." 

"All  right,  we  are  nearly  through  painting  and  you 
can  finish  alone  while  I  go  over  and  have  a  talk  with 
Mr.  Slater." 

"No,  no,  Phil,  let  me  go — what  do  you  know  of  a 
horse  trade,  or  of  a  horse,  anyhow  ?"  Jack  eagerly  ex- 
claimed. 

"Not  much,  I  confess,  though  I  have  handled  some 
in  Ohio." 

"Well,  let  me  go  anyway,  I've  driven  lots  of  horses 
in  New  York  when  I  was  on  the  force." 

"Undoubtedly,  and  stopped  a  runaway  team  now 
and  then ;  but  you  know  about  as  much  of  a  horse's 
faults  and  qualities  as  Gottlieb  Brauer  knows  of 
music.  But  then  go  ahead  and  try  your  luck,  and 

221 


PLUCK 

don't  forget  that  you  are  dealing  with  a  shrewd  Yan- 
kee." So  saying  Phillip  resumed  painting,  and  Jack 
started  off  to  Slater's. 

When  Phillip  had  finished  painting  he  found 
he  had  time  to  go  to  town  before  supper,  to  get  the 
mail.  So  he  changed  his  clothes,  as  was  his  habit, 
and  started.  On  his  return,  two  hours  later,  he  found 
Jack  awaiting  him,  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"Well,  I  got  them,"  he  shouted  gleefully  as  soon 
as  Phillip  was  within  hearing  distance.  "And  they're 
all  right,  too,  sound  as  a  silver  dollar !" 

"So-o,"  Phillip  rejoined  as  he  came  up.  "I'm  glad 
of  it.  What  did  you  put  up  for  them  ?" 

"Ha,  ha,"  laughed  Jack,  "that's  the  best  of  the 
whole  deal ;  he  wanted  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for 
the  team  and  I  finally  traded  him  the  yoke  of  steers 
we  broke  last  winter  and  the  old  brindle  cow  that 
kicks  so." 

"Did  you  tell  him  she  kicks  ?" 

"Did  I  tell  him  she  kicks?  Hear  the  innocent! 
No,  you  bet  I  didn't;  we  don't  tell  such  things  in 
horse  trading.  He  asked  whether  she  was  gentle  and 
I  told  him  anybody  almost  could  milk  her.  And  so 
they  can,  ha,  ha — but  that  is  as  close  as  anybody  but 
old  Bauernfeind  can  get  to  it — 'almost,'  yes,  that's 
it."  And  Jack  laughed  loud  as  his  imagination  pic- 
tured to  him  old  Slater's  troubles  when  he  would  try 
to  milk  her. 

"Jack,  I  don't  like  that  a  bit ;  it  isn't  honest,  horse 
trade  or  no  horse  trade.  If  those  horses  are  worth 
what  the  old  gentleman  asked  for  them  you  beat  him 


JACK  MAKES  A  TRADE 

shamefully  and  ought  to  make  it  right.  Where  did 
you  put  them  ?" 

"Over  in  the  new  stable,  and  they  are  as  gentle  as 
lambs." 

Phillip  started  to  inspect  the  new  acquisitions ;  but 
the  moment  he  clapped  eyes  on  them  he  emitted  a 
long-drawn  low  whistle  and  suppressed  a  smile. 

"That  is  a  fine  team,"  he  said  dryly;  "did  Slater 
say  how  old  they  were  ?" 

"Well,  the  bay  is  some  over  seven  and  the  black,  I 
think,  a  little  older,"  answered  Jack,  unconsciously 
quoting  Slater. 

"H'm !  Look  at  these  teeth ;  did  you  examine  them 
before  you  made  the  bargain  ?  No  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  continued  as  he  looked  the  black  also 
in  the  mouth,  "that's  true  as  gospel,  'the  bay  is  some 
past  seven  and  the  black  a  little  older.'  These  gray 
hair  in  the  mane  will  need  dyeing  some,  I  fear,"  he 
added,  musingly.  "Rather  in  poor  flesh,  too — look  as 
though  they  had  just  come  out  of  a  cooper  shop." 

"Well,  the  old  man  was  short  on  grain,  but  a  little 
extra  feeding  will  put  them  in  fine  trim,"  Jack  inter- 
rupted. 

By  this  time  Phillip  was  examining  the  horses' 
legs.  "Hello,  what  are  these  bunches  ?" 

"Oh,  that's  where  the  colts  kicked  them  last  winter 
when  they  were  all  out  in  the  yard  together." 

"Strange,  strange,  what  curious  things  do  happen ; 
both  horses  kicked  on  both  legs  and  almost  on  the 
same  spots — if  you  hadn't  told  me  how  it  happened 
I  should  have  called  them  wind  galls,"  Phillip  re- 
joined without  the  trace  of  a  smile.  "And  these  lit- 

223 


PLUCK 

tie  elevations  here  near  the  knee — yes,  the  bay  has 
got  them,  too — I  wonder  what  they  mean  ?"  he  asked, 
with  grave  innocence. 

"Well,  sure  enough — I  hadn't  seen  that,  but  I  guess 
it'll  go  away  with  good  feeding ;  you  see  they  are  run 
down  by  poor  feeding." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right — -I  was  afraid  they  might 
be  spavins.  How  are  they  on  the  wind  ?" 

"All  right,  I  guess — they  puffed  a  little  when  I 
brought  them  home,  'cause  I  walked  them  pretty  fast, 
as  I  was  afraid  the  old  man  might  change  his  mind." 

"Well,  let's  find  out  what  treasures  we  really  have 
got.  You  lead  one  and  I'll  take  the  other  and  we'll 
trot  them  around  the  yard  for  a  few  minutes." 

Jack,  still  unsuspicious,  did  as  requested  and  for 
about  two  minutes  they  led  them  on  a  brisk  trot 
around  the  large  yard.  When  they  were  again  in 
the  stalls  both  horses  puffed  like  steam  engines  and 
their  flanks  undulated  like  a  billowy  sea. 

"They  do  seem  to  breathe  hard — but  Slater  said 
they  always  did  that  when  he  fed  them  on  dusty  hay," 
Jack  remarked. 

"You  don't  think  they've  got  the  heaves  ?"  Phillip 
queried,  with  assumed  anxiety. 

"Heaves!  I  should  think  not,"  Jack  answered, 
convincingly.  He  didn't  care  to  admit  his  ignorance 
of  the  meaning  of  the  term. 

Phillip  was  again  examining  the  leg  of  one  of  the 
horses:  "Well,  this  might  have  been  a  ring  bone  at 
some  time" — 

224 


You.  don't  think  thev've  got  the  heaves?' 


JACK  MAKES  A  TRADE 

"Oh,  no,"  Jack  interrupted ;  "Old  Slater  said  such 
a  mark  sometimes  comes  from  getting  caught  in  a 
rope — that  might  rub  the  hair  off." 

Finally  Phillip  closed  his  examination  and  together 
they  started  for  the  house.  On  the  way  Jack  anxious- 
ly asked  whether  Phillip  still  insisted  on  his  giving 
Slater  another  cow  for  the  one  that  kicked.  "Oh, 
no,  I  think  he'll  be  satisfied  in  time,"  the  latter  re- 
joined, as  he  turned  away  to  conceal  a  smile. 

Next  day  Jack  bought  the  spring  wagon  and  re- 
paired and  painted  it,  and  on  the  following  Sunday 
afternoon  he  prepared  to  drive  to  town  in  style. 
Phillip  excused  himself  with  having  letters  to  write, 
and  anxiously  awaited  the  result. 

About  one  o'clock  he  saw  the  team  slowly  coming 
back,  but  Jack  was  not  driving  it ;  it  was  the  village 
constable  who  occupied  the  seat. 

"Hello,  what's  up ;  where's  Jack  ?"  he  cried,  as  the 
latter  drove  up. 

"In  the  lockup,"  was  the  laconic  reply ;  "better  get 
in  and  we'll  drive  back  and  bail  him  out." 

"Bail  him  out  I  will,  but  we'll  walk." 

"Might  as  well — we'll  get  there  quicker,"  the  other 
replied. 

So  they  unhitched,  put  up  the  horses  and  started 
for  the  village.  On  the  way  the  constable  related 
that  when  Jack  drove  into  town  he  drove  up  the  front 
street,  looking  as  proud  as  a  peacok.  When  he  got 
near  the  tavern,  where  a  lot  of  the  boys  were  waiting 
for  church  time,  he  stopped. 

"Hello,  Jack,"  one  of  them  shouted,  "wher'd  you 
get  them  cripples  ?" 

225 


PLUCK 

"Cripples,  you  call  them  ?"  Jack  flashed  back,  hot 
in  an  instant,  as  he  jumped  out  to  tie  up,  "I  want  you 
to  understand  they  cost  more  than  all  you  own  in  the 
world." 

"What  did  you  give  for  them  ?"  another  asked. 

"I  traded  a  yoke  of  two-year-olds  and  a  fine  cow 
for  them,  and  they're  dirt  cheap  at  that." 

The  crowd  shouted,  and  Jack  kept  getting  more 
and  more  angry,  until  finally  he  yelled  at  them  to 
know  the  reason  of  their  laughter. 

"Bill  Denton,  who  is  always  putting  his  foot  in 
it,  spoke  up:  'Oh,  we  are  all  so  tickled  that  we  got 
such  a  good  horseman  among  us,  haw,  haw,  haw ! 
We,  us  fellows,  who  don't  know  anything  about  horses, 
we'd  a  thought  them  the  most  ancient,  heavy,  ring- 
boned,  spavined,  wind  galled  carcasses  ever  deliv- 
ered to  a  glue  fac — ,'  but,  before  he  had  time  to  finish 
the  word,  Jack  went  for  him  like  lightning  and  in 
less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  he  had  knocked  Bill 
insensible.  I  got  there  just  in  time  to  see  the  finish," 
the  constable  concluded  his  statement,  "and  so  I  ar- 
rested him.  I'd  a  come  to  get  you  sooner,  but  we  had 
a  hard  job  to  bring  Bill  to." 

When  they  reached  the  village  they  first  went  to  see 
Denton,  who  had  by  that  time  fully  recovered,  and 
was  little  the  worse  for  his  thrashing,  except  that  he 
had  a  badly  swollen  face.  He  admitted  that  he 
merited  the  chastisement  and  was  not  at  all  anxious 
to  have  Jack  punished.  Together  they  proceeded  to 
the  lockup,  where  they  found  Jack  crestfallen.  Be- 
fore any  of  the  visitors  had  time  to  say  a  word,  he 
addressed  Denton  with,  "Bill,  I  want  to  beg  your  par- 

226 


JACK  MAKES  A  TRADE 

don — I'm  ashamed  of  myself."  Denton  at  once  ex- 
tended his  hand,  saying,  "Shake,  old  fellow,  'nough 
said ;  I  was  to  blame." 

No  complaint  being  lodged,  Jack  was  released  and 
went  home  with  Phillip.  As  soon  as  they  were  out 
of  town,  he  stopped  and  looked  at  the  latter  for  a 
moment,  then  continuing  walking  said,  "Phillip,  why 
didn't  you  tell  me  of  the  condition  of  those  horses 
when  I  brought  them  home  ?" 

"I'll  tell  you,  Jack;  it  was  for  several  reasons: 
First,  it  was  too  late,  as  Old  Slater  would  never  have 
taken  them  back ;  second,  you  wanted  to  beat  the  old 
man  in  the  trade  by  putting  a  worthless  cow  on  him, 
or  you  wouldn't  have  been  so  anxious  not  to  let  me 
go  instead  of  yourself,  which  made  the  result  but  just 
retribution ;  and,  third,  it  is  always  a  wholesome  les- 
son to  get  the  conceit  knocked  out  of  us  a  little." 

Jack  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  pondering  over  his 
friend's  words;  but,  when  they  arrived  at  the  gate, 
he  said  emphatically :  "Phil,  I'll  never  try  to  beat  a 
man  again  as  long  as  I  live,  nor  I  ain't  going  to  let 
one  beat  me  again,  neither !" 

July  was  drawing  nearer  and  our  young  friends 
were  impatiently  awaiting  the  day  fixed  for  the  ar- 
rival of  the  Baldwins.  Jack  worked  over  the  horses 
every  moment  of  his  spare  time,  until  they  began  to 
shine  like  polished.  But  he  couldn't  manage  to  con- 
ceal the  protruding  ribs  and  bony  backs,  although  he 
fairly  gorged  them  with  corn  and  oats  and  the  best  of 
hay.  However,  they  were  much  improved  in  appear- 
ance by  the  first  day  of  July,  at  which  time  the  guests 
were  expected.  The  spare  room  was  fixed  up  to  the 

227 


PLUCK 

best  advantage  for  the  ladies,  and  our  friends  vacated 
their  own  for  Mr.  Baldwin. 

Monday,  July  1st,  at  length  came,  and  a  beautiful 
day  it  was;  the  air  balmy,  the  grasses  luxuriant  in 
their  richest  green,  the  wild  flowers  smiling  in  the 
forest  and  along  the  road-sides,  and  the  birds  singing 
joyously  from  a  thousand  leafy  branches. 

The  station  was  nine  miles  away  and  the  train  due 
at  ten  o'clock.  The  horses  must  necessarily  be  driven 
on  a  walk  most  of  the  time,  but  an  early  start  offset 
the  slow  pace,  so  that  our  friends  arrived  a  full  hour 
before  the  train.  At  length  the  whistle  was  heard  in 
the  distance,  the  rumbling  sound  increased  in  volume 
and  a  moment  later  the  train  thundered  into  the  sta- 
tion. Eagerly  they  scanned  the  windows  and  watched 
the  doors  until  they  saw  Mr.  Baldwin  emerge,  closely 
followed  by  Mrs.  Baldwin  and  Eda. 

After  a  most  joyful  greeting,  and  securing  of  the 
baggage,  they  started  on  the  return  trip — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Baldwin  occupying  the  rear  seat,  while  Eda  took 
her  place  between  her  brother  and  Jack,  in  the  front. 
The  country  was  so  bright,  the  sight  so  new  to  the  city- 
bred  ladies,  especially  to  Eda,  who  thought  she  had 
never  seen  anything  so  lovely,  that,  amidst  question- 
ing and  answering  and  exclamation  at  sight  of  each 
new  discovery,  the  return  trip  seemed  shorter  than 
Jack  could  have  imagined.  And  when  Eda,  over- 
flowing with  happiness,  praised  the  glossy  appearance 
of  the  horses  and  asked  him  to  drive  slower — albeit 
they  rarely  left  a  walk — because  they  would  get  all 
out  of  breath,  he  was  so  delighted  that  even  Phillip's 

228 


JACK  MAKES  A  TRADE 

sidelong  glance  and  tantalizing  smile  could  not  annoy 
him. 

When  they  reached  home  it  was  after  twelve,  and 
a  splendid  German  dinner,  prepared  by  the  old  lady 
Bauernfeind,  awaited  them. 

After  doing  it  hearty  justice  the  guests  were  anx- 
ious to  view  our  friends'  possessions,  and  with  par- 
donable pride  and  many  explanations  they  showed 
them  some  of  the  results  of  their  hard  labors.  A 
comfortable  house,  surrounded  by  a  large,  neatly  kept 
yard,  and  large,  well-filled  log  barns  and  stables,  were, 
of  course,  the  main  features.  Then  a  large  herd  of 
cattle — cows,  oxen,  heavy  steers  and  younger  stock — 
came  in  for  praise ;  a  flock  of  chickens,  a  dozen  geese 
and  waddling  ducks  followed  them  about  the  rear 
yard,  and  an  old  turkey  gobbler  tried  to  exhibit  the 
pride  his  masters  felt  by  strutting  about  with  tail 
spread  into  a  massive  fan  and  his  head  thrown  back 
until  his  wattles  were  crimson  with  imprisoned  blood. 

Old  Bauernfeind  was  so  happy  that  every  moment 
he  could  get  the  ear  of  one  of  the  guests,  he  would  run 
over  with  fulsome  praise  of  the  young  men :  How  they 
had  saved  him  and  his  "old  woman"  from  want,  and 
how  hard  they  worked,  and  how  everybody  liked 
them,  and  how  good-hearted  they  were,  etc.  Nor 
were  the  lady  guests  reticent  with  expressions  of  ap- 
proval. Mr.  Baldwin  alone  was  not  effusive;  only 
once  he  remarked  to  his  wife:  "Mamma,  do  you  re- 
member the  time  when  I  remarked  of  a  little  German 
lad  that  he  had  'American  pluck,'  that  we  wanted  such 
timber  and  spirit  to  help  build  up  America  and  make 

229 


PLUCK 

it  great?"  and  she    answered,    with    a    nod,  "Yes, 
Richard,  I  remember  it  well." 

After  a  time,  as  the  day  had  grown  quite  warm,  the 
two  elder  people  retired  to  the  house  to  rest,  while 
Eda,  who  insisted  on  going  into  the  woods,  gladly  ac- 
cepted the  company  of  Phillip  and  Jack. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HE  HAD  TO   SHOUT. 

MUST  now  disgress  to  give  the  reader  a 
fair  understanding  of  the  location  and 
condition  of  the  farm.  It  had  been 
bought  in  the  first  place  with  a  view  to 
an  eventual  division  between  them;  and  in  making 
their  clearings  they  kept  this  end  in  view  as  much  as 
possible.  As  already  related,  the  farm  consisted  of 
three  hundred  and  twenty  acres,  two  quarter  sections, 
the  northeast  quarters  of  one  section  and  the  south- 
east quarter  of  another.  A  highway  ran  east  and  west 
directly  between  the  two,  to  the  little  village  of  New- 
tonville,  one  and  three-quarter  miles  to  the  east,  on  the 
banks  of  Wood  river.  The  river  was  but  a  small  stream 
that  received  its  supply  from  large  marshes  and  small 
creeks,  and  finally  discharged  into  Rock  River.  An- 
other highway  had  been  cut  north  and  south  through 
the  forest  on  the  east  line  of  our  friends'  land,  but 
was  hardly  fit  for  passage  as  yet.  Commencing  near 
the  middle  of  the  west  end  of  the  quarter  section 
north  of  the  main  highway,  a  strip  of  tamarack,  some 
thirty  rods  wide  and  gradually  spreading  as  it  crossed 
the  road,  bordered  a  small  creek  which  wound  its  way 
southeasterly  through  the  north  quarter  section, 

231 


PLUCK 

crossed  the  road  about  160  rods  west  of  the  house, 
and  then  ran  nearly  straight  south  for  two  miles, 
being  finally  lost  in  a  large  marsh,  which  was  also 
bordered  with  tamarack  trees.  The  marsh  was  al- 
ways flooded  by  the  melting  snow  and  rains  in  the 
spring  and  was  then  a  favorite  resort  for  millions  of 
wild  ducks  and  geese.  Both  of  the  quarter  sections 
of  our  friends  sloped  gently  toward  this  creek  and 
tamarack,  the  north  quarter  having  a  little  more  dry 
land  than  the  other  and  being,  therefore,  slightly  more 
valuable. 

The  first  clearing  was  made  in  the  northeast  corner 
of  the  south  quarter  and  the  buildings  erected  thereon. 
The  first  little  log  house  was  close  to  the  stable  and 
other  small  sheds,  but  the  new  house  was  a  little 
farther  removed  and  faced  the  old  highway  on  the 
north  and  the  new  one  on  the  east.  The  clearing  was 
gradually  enlarged,  first  to  the  west  and  south;  and 
afterwards  a  like  space  was  cleared  across  the  road 
on  the  .north  quarter  extending  north  and  westward. 

The  mode  of  procedure  was  like  this:  The  trees 
were  cut  down,  the  best  logs  reserved  for  the  mill  to 
be  sold  or  made  into  lumber;  a  little  cordwood  was 
also  made — sufficient  for  their  own  use  and  some 
friends  in  the  village.  The  railroad  was  too  far  away, 
and,  while  the  company  used  wood  exclusively  at  that 
time,  it  obtained  its  supply  so  cheaply  from  the  set- 
tlers near  by  that  it  did  not  pay  our  friends  to  haul  it 
so  far — the  more  so,  since  they  had  no  horses,  until 
now.  Consequently  the  greater  part  of  the  beautiful 
timber,  consisting  of  maple,  red  and  white  oak,  elm, 
basswood,  black  walnut,  butternut,  with  scattering 

232 


HE  HAD  TO  SHOUT 

hickory,  ironwood  and  the  like,  had  to  be  ''logged  up" 
and  burned.  After  this  was  accomplished,  grass  seed 
was  scattered  on  the  mellow  soil,  which  soon  grew  and 
formed  splendid  pasture  for  the  cattle.  Pasturing  was 
useful  in  another  way:  It  compacted  the  soil,  kept 
down  the  new  shoots  and  aided  to  early  rot  the  roots  so 
that  the  stumps  could  be  removed.  After  a  year  or  two 
of  pasturing  all  loose  stumps  were  removed  and  the 
land  plowed — two  powerful  yoke  of  oxen  to  each  plow 
—the  torn  up  roots  gathered  and  burned,  and  the  field 
planted  to  corn;  and  this  was  subsequently  followed 
by  rye,  wheat  or  oats.  Potatoes  at  first  were  raised 
right  among  the  stumps  in  the  virgin  soil,  but  later 
generally  on  cultivated  land.  Each  season  had  its 
labor;  whatever  could  be  done  in  winter,  in  the  way 
of  clearing,  must  not  be  reserved  for  the  summer. 

All  this  was,  of  course,  herculean  toil;  but  what 
think  you,  kind  reader,  caused  these  magnificent 
farms  to  spring  up  throughout  all  Southern  Wiscon- 
sin until  it  has  become  a  very  paradise  for  agricul- 
ture ?  Nothing  but  the  hardest  kind  of  labor,  coupled 
with  many  privations.  Those  who  have  not  lived  to 
see  it,  or  better  still,  take  part,  will  never  be  able  to 
realize  the  tremendous  hardships  these  early  pioneers 
had  to  contend  with,  and  many  such  readers  of  this 
book  will  scan  these  lines  with  impatience,  or  skip 
through  them  as  "uninteresting."  Therefore,  but  a 
word  more  on  this  subject  and  I  will  leave  it. 

At  this  time  in  our  friends'  history  they  had 
cleared  nearly  sixty  acres  and  were  considered  among 
the  most  prosperous  in  the  community.  They  had  a 
surplus  of  general  farm  products  and  were  beginning 

233 


PLUCK 

to  make  money  from  the  sale  of  cattle.  To-day  the 
herd  was  on  the  newly  cleared  land  across  the  road, 
which  was  fenced  in,  like  the  remainder,  with  a  heavy 
rail  fence.  The  cattle,  after  receiving  water  at  a 
well  near  the  house,  had  wandered  away  to  other  parts 
of  the  pasture,  and  Phillip  proposed  that  they  cross 
over  to  show  Eda  their  new  clearing. 

When  they  reached  it,  but  few  of  the  cattle  could 
be  seen,  and  Jack,  upon  looking  around,  discovered 
a  break  in  the  fence  where  they  had  evidently  thrown 
down  the  rails  with  their  horns,  and  some  of  them 
passed  over  into  the  woods.  He  suggested  that  they 
were  probably  up  on  the  north  end  where  the  timber 
was  lighter  and  forest  grass  more  plentiful,  and  pro- 
posed to  go  and  bring  them  back.  But  Phillip  said, 
no,  he  would  go,  and  Jack  should  go  ahead  with  Eda 
— he  would  soon  join  them. 

Phillip  smiled  to  himself  as  they  left  him,  while 
he  slowly  went  in  the  other  direction. 

Side  by  side  Eda  and  Jack  strolled  along.  The 
giant  forest  trees  cast  a  dense  shade  about  them,  and 
only  a  glimmer  of  sunshine  now  and  then  forced  its 
way  through  the  thick  foliage.  Under  their  feet  the 
thick  leaves  yielded  like  a  heavy  velvet  carpet,  and 
modest  forest  plants  bowed  to  them  at  every  foot- 
step. The  startled  "birr"  of  a  partridge,  as  it  left  its 
favorite  scratching  place,  and  the  occasional  "oo-hoo" 
of  a  distant  owl  were  the  only  sounds  that  could  be 
heard.  Deeper  and  deeper  grew  the  shade  and  the 
warm  moist  air  seemed  to  enthrall  the  senses  of  the 
wanderers.  At  length  Eda  broke  the  silence: 

234 


HE  HAD  TO  SHOUT 

"Oh,  Jack,  this  is  beautiful;  I  feel  as  though  I 
were  in  the  presence  of  angels  and  God  were  near 
by,"  she  half  whispered. 

Jack,  although  he  had  long  since,  been  converted 
from  his  prepossession  in  favor  of  the  prairie  to  love 
of  the  forest,  this  day  saw  its  beauties  as  never  be- 
fore. With  a  heart  overflowing  with  indefinable  emo- 
tion and  love  bordering  on  idolatry  for  the  fair  being 
at  his  side,  he  could  only  stammer  a  subdued  "Y-e-s." 

Presently  Eda  roused  herself:  "If  indeed  we  are 
in  such  good  company,  let  us  be  gay,"  she  exclaimed. 
"Oh,  what  a  beautiful  flower !  See  over  there — let's 
get  it." 

"That  is  a  'lady  slipper5,"  Jack  said,  "and  fits  you 
to  perfection,"  he  gallantly  added. 

"Oh,  no,  I  hope  not — I  was  not  raised  in  China," 
she  laughingly  answered;  and  as  her  eyes  espied  a 
new  flower :  "Look,  Jack !  Why,  it  looks  like  a  violet 
— it  must  be  a  real  forest  violet — I  did  not  know  they 
ever  blossomed  so  late." 

"In  this  dense  shade  they  blossom  all  the  summer. 
And  look,  Eda,  this  is  'bleeding  heart,'  and  this  is 
'heart's  ease,'  which  will  you  have?" 

"Both,  Jack,  because  they  ever  grow  together,"  she 
answered  meaningly. 

Thus  talking,  picking  flowers,  and  now  and  then 
lapsing  into  silence,  they  walked  along  until  they 
reached  the  borders  of  the  tamarack,  when  Eda  said, 
"Let's  sit  down  on  this  log  and  wait  for  Phil.  I  won- 
der where  he  can  be  so  long." 

"I  suppose,"  Jack  replied,  "he  had  difficulty  in 
finding  the  cattle  or  in  bringing  them  back;  and  I 

335 


PLUCK 

know  he  wouldn't  give  up,  because  they  are  more  dif- 
ficult to  find  in  the  evening.  I  believe  I  can  hear  a 
cowbell  in  the  distance  now" — he  added,  listening — 
"he  must  have  found  them." 

Silence  followed;  Eda  had  seated  herself  on  the 
moss-covered  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  and  was  looking 
dreamily  at  the  thick  undergrowth  of  the  tamarack 
swamp.  Her  light  bonnet  had  fallen  back  on  her 
shoulders,  held  there  by  the  pale  blue  ribbon  about 
her  neck,  and  her  beautiful  auburn  hair,  released 
from  restraint,  crowded  in  clinging  waves  over  her 
snowy  forehead  and  kissed  her  rosy  cheeks.  She  was 
a  picture  of  loveliness.  An  expression  at  once  so  ten- 
der and  indicative  of  self-reliance  and  strength  rested 
on  her  countenance,  that  Jack  stood  silently  before 
her,  unable  to  lift  his  eyes  from  her  face.  She  raised 
them  for  a  moment  and  saw  a  look  that  brought  a 
quick  blush  to  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  isn't  that  a  fern — over  there  ?"  pointing  to  the 
edge  of  the  tamarack.  "Why,  what  a  large  one — 
won't  you  get  it  for  me  ?" 

Jack  looked  slowly  in  the  direction  indicated,  then 
mechanically  went  and  got  it.  He  laid  it  in  her  lap, 
seized  her  hands,  and  suddenly  knelt  down  before  her 
and  sought  her  eyes. 

"Eda,"  he  began,  "I  cannot  stand  it  longer,  I  can- 
not !  I  must  tell  you  what  is  in  my  heart.  I  love  you 
so  immeasurably  it  makes  me  almost  crazy.  Tell  me, 
oh,  please  tell  me  can  I  have  even  the  smallest  hope 
ever  to  win  your  love  in  return  ?  You  are  so  good, 
so  pure,  so  strong,  you  would  ennoble  any  companion, 
and,  though  I  am  uncouth  now,  with  your  love  to  look 


HE  HAD  TO  SHOUT 

forward  to,  earth  will  be  a  paradise  and  I  will  not 
disgrace  it."  He  bowed  his  head  as  he  uttered  the 
last  earnest  words,  kneeling  like  a  penitent  sinner  at 
the  judgment  throne. 

Tears,  sweet  tears  of  joy  and  love  welled  up  to 
Eda's  eyes.  Her  head  drooped  forward  until  her  lips 
almost  touched  his  hair,  as  she  whispered  in  his  ears, 
"Jack,  dear  Jack,  I'll  never  learn  to  love  you  more 
than  now."  He  glanced  up,  saw  her  eyes  beaming 
with  love,  and  caught  the  meaning  of  her  words,  and 
up  he  jumped,  this  wild  Irish  lover,  to  his  feet,  and 
gave  such  a  terrific  shout  that  the  old  giant  trees  shook 
the  owls  and  whippoorwills  from  their  branches,  and 
Eda  turned  pale  and  looked  about  in  alarm  for  the 
cause  of  such  an  eruption.  Before  she  could  realize 
anything  she  was  seized  by  two  strong  arms,  lifted 
bodily  from  her  seat  and  pressed  to  a  manly  breast, 
Avhose  owner  almost  smothered  her  with  kisses.  As 
suddenly  she  was  released  and  replaced  on  the  log. 
Once  more  Jack  knelt  before  her,  now  looking  almost 
pale,  he  took  her  hand  and  earnestly  asked,  "Is  it 
true,  Eda,  do  you  love  me  ?"  and  when  she  nodded  her 
head  the  tears  commenced  to  roll  down  his  cheeks,  he 
kissed  her  hand  and  muttered,  "This  is  too  much,  too 
much  happiness — may  I  shout  once  more?"  And, 
before  she  could  answer,  his  voice  again  awakened  the 
echoes  in  the  distant  woods. 

"Oh,  dear,  dear  Eda,  it  would  have  killed  me  if  I 
couldn't  have  shouted,"  he  said,  as  he  now  quietly  sat 
down  beside  her  and  placed  his  arm  about  her.  "In 
the  wildest  dreams  of  my  life  I  never  imagined  I 
could  be  so  happy." 

237 


PLUCK 

"Hello !  Hello-o !"  some  one  called  in  the  distance. 
"Helo-o-o !"  it  sounded  again  nearer,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment Phillip  came  rushing  by  where  the  lovers  were 
seated.  Suddenly  he  saw  them  sitting  on  the  log, 
Eda's  head  pillowed  on  Jack's  breast,  and  Jack's  arm 
around  her  waist,  and  they  saw  him. 

He  stopped  short  and  looked  at  them,  steadily  main- 
taining their  position.  Then  a  broad  smile  lit  up 
his  face,  while  he  muttered  to  himself,  "Well,  I  might 
have  known  it,  Jack  had  to  shout  or  burst  when  that 
came  about."  He  approached  the  couple  and  they 
ran  to  meet  him  and  embraced  him  together. 

"Oh,  you  dear  Phillip,  I  know  you  stayed  away  so 
long  purposely,"  Eda  whispered ;  "Phil,  it's  all  your 
doing,  I'd  never  dared  believe  it  if  you  hadn't  bid  me 
hope,"  Jack  shouted. 

"Well,  well,  children,"  the  young  man  replied,  "it's 
all  right,  but  next  time  don't  scare  a  fellow  to  death 
with  your  unearthly  yells — why,  I  thought  some 
dreadful  accident  had  surely  happened,  and  ran  all 
the  way  from  the  clearing." 

"But  what  made  you  stay  so  long — did  you  have 
trouble  with  the  cattle?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  sat  on  the  fence  dreaming,  and  hoping 
you  two  would  get  lost  and  find  each  other"  Phillip 
answered  laughingly. 

Beautiful  as  the  forest  still  was,  and  sweet  the  per- 
fume in  the  air,  the  lovers  must  hasten  home,  Eda  to 
pour  the  story  of  her  happiness  into  the  willing  ear 
of  her  foster  mother,  Jack  to  speak  with  beating 
heart  to  Mr.  Baldwin.  Phillip  remained,  and  seating 
himself  upon  the  fallen  tree  so  recently  the  witness 

238 


HE  HAD  TO  SHOUT 

of  unfathomable  joy,  thought  of  the  future,  with  the 
silent  dread  of  war  uppermost  in  his  heart.  He  hated 
war,  he  loved  peace.  Discord  of  any  kind,  enmity 
and  bitterness  were  like  poison  to  him.  The  older 
he  grew,  the  more  charitable  toward  the  faults  of  his 
fellow  beings  he  became.  Why  could  not  right  and 
justice  prevail  without  blows,  without  struggles,  with- 
out wars  ?  Why  must  men  kill  each  other  to  force 
still  others  to  see  and  in  mind  and  heart  learn,  what 
is  right! 

He  felt  that  war  would  surely  come — that  any  mo- 
ment duty  might  call  him  to  leave  his  pleasant  home, 
the  nursery  of  his  ambitions  and  of  his  hopes  for  the 
future;  and  that  he  must  then  leave  it  all,  perhaps 
never  to  see  it  again :  And  his  heart  grew  sad  and 
heavy.  How  he  had  labored  and  struggled  since  he 
left  the  shores  of  the  Fatherland !  And  what  would 
be  the  final  fruit  of  his  labors  ?  A  grave  perhaps  in 
some  distant  valley,  unknown  and  uncared  for ! 

Suddenly,  as  if  from  the  vapors  of  that  grave,  there 
seemed  to  arise  before  him  the  vision  of  father  and 
mother — he  saw  them  at  the  moment  of  parting,  when 
mother  strained  him  to  her  heart  and  anointed  him 
with  her  tears,  when  father  blessed  him  and  bade  him 
be  true  to  his  God,  for,  as  he  added  in  unbounded 
faith,  "Gott  verlaesst  die  Seinen  nie !" — and  Phillip, 
slipping  down  from  his  seat,  in  the  deep  shade  and 
dead  silence  of  the  forest,  with  his  folded  hands  rest- 
ing upon  one  of  its  fallen  monarchs,  knelt  and 
prayed.  When  he  arose  a  smile  hovered  on  his  lips, 
new  cheer  was  in  his  heart,  and  with  elastic  step  he 
sought  his  home. 

239 


PLUCK 

That  was  a  happy  week  for  them  all,  but 
more  particularly  for  Eda  and  Jack.  All  day  they 
would  roam  the  forest,  exploring  every  hidden  nook 
and  telling  each  other  of  their  past  lives.  Often  they 
revisited  the  spot  where  they  had  plighted  their  troth, 
and  lived  over  again  the  joy  of  those  happy  moments. 
To  the  hour  of  their  death,  not  long  ago,  it  was  ever 
sacred  to  them;  and  though  both  now  sleep  beneath 
the  sod,  their  children  will  not  forget.  Not  one  of 
the  old  witnesses  to  their  happiness  has  felt  the  wood- 
man's axe,  unless  old  age  and  storm  first  broke  them 
down ;  and  the  survivors  still  whisper  the  story  to  the 
young  shoots  that  take  their  place.  A  tract  of  about 
ten  acres,  dense  and  shady  as  of  yore,  protected  from 
cattle  and  trespassers,  surrounds  the  spot  to  this  day. 

Thursday,  July  4th,  they  all  spent  in  the  village, 
celebrating  the  national  holiday,  and  though  Phillip, 
in  response  to  unanimous  call,  made  a  patriotic 
speech,  Jack  remained  the  hero  of  the  day,  because 
it  became  known  that  he  had  won  that  charming  girl, 
Phillip's  sister. 

During  the  week  Mr.  Baldwin  and  Phillip  visited 
the  tracts  of  land  the  latter  had  selected  as  the  most 
promising  for  investment,  and  by  Saturday  night  the 
deals  had  been  concluded  and  purchases  made.  The 
following  Monday  the  guests  returned  to  their  home 
in  Milwaukee.  It  was  a  sad  parting — for  who  could 
foretell  what  the  future  had  in  store  with  the  lowering 
clouds  of  war  before  them.  Each  day  made  the  com- 
ing of  the  storm  more  certain,  and  gloomy  and  sad 
indeed  was  the  final  farewell.  Jack  promised  Eda, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  would  not  volunteer 

240 


HE  HAD  TO  SHOUT 


until  it  became  a  duty  to  his  country,  and  Phillip  was 
to  say  when  that  time  had  come.  Then,  indeed,  she 
would  not  hold  him  back.  All  still  hoped,  or  made 
believe  they  hoped,  the  storm  would  pass. 


2-11 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  WAR. 

BOUT  two  weeks  later  came  the  news 
that  Congress  had  voted  $250,000,000  to 
pay  the  expenses  of  putting  down  the 
Rebellion,  and  authorized  the  call  for 
500,000  volunteers;  and  that  the  Confederate  States 
had  issued  a  call  for  an  equal  number  of  men. 
Almost  simultaneously  came  the  news  of  the  Battle 
of  Bull  Run  and  the  Unionists'  defeat.  Excitement 
ran  high — the  more  enthusiastic  of  the  young  men 
of  the  village  company  were  for  enlisting  at  once; 
but  the  cooler  heads  held  them  in  check  for  a  time. 

Day  by  day  the  feeling  grew  more  and  more  in- 
tense— Jack,  with  many  others,  chafed  at  being  held 
back,  but  Phillip  restrained  them.  "It  is  not  neces- 
sary, boys,  as  yet ;  when  the  time  comes  we  will  move 
— till  then  be  patient,"  were  his  orders.  But  they 
would  not  be  patient.  The  patriotism  their  captain 
had  himself  slowly  fanned  into  flame,  got  beyond  his 
control.  One  hot-headed  fellow  went  so  far  as  to  call 
Phillip  a  coward,  for  which  he  was  promptly  knocked 
down  by  Jack.  Finally  some  could  be  held  back  no 
longer,  and  the  company  broke  up.  At  least  one- 
half  left  for  various  posts  of  enlistment.  The  re- 

242 


THE  WAR 

mainder  waited  with  Phillip  and  Jack  until  Septem- 
ber, when  news  of  repeated  disaster  to  the  Union 
forces  had  made  every  patriot's  duty  clear;  then  all 
left  to  join  the  army.  Phillip  and  Jack,  with  a  num- 
ber of  others,  went  to  Chicago  and  enlisted  there  as 
privates  in  Company  -  of  Illinois  Volunteers. 
Before  going  they  secured  their  crops,  sold  a  large 
part  of  their  stock  and  left  the  remainder  in  charge 
of  old  Bauernfeind,  hoping,  at  least,  that  inside  of 
a  year  they  would  return.  It  was  decreed  otherwise, 
as  the  result  showed. 

Kind  reader,  do  not  expect  me  to  trace  the  war 
record  of  either  of  them  on  these  pages ;  for  the  story 
of  their  lives  the  next  three  years,  of  the  hardships 
through  which  they  passed,  the  battles  which  they 
fought,  is  a  confused  mass  in  my  mind.  How  often 
have  I  seen  the  two  old  veterans  sitting  together  of 
an  evening,  at  the  fireside,  and  live  over  again,  so  to 
speak,  their  thrilling  adventures  of  the  war.  I  have 
heard  them  describe  this  battle  and  that  and  quarrel 
in  a  friendly  way  over  some  unimportant  detail;  I 
have  heard  them  tell  of  tight  places  they  were  in 
when  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  seemed  able  to  save 
them ;  then  I  have  heard  them  tell  of  comrades  whose 
bravery  at  some  time  saved  their  lives;  and  I  have 
seen  them  weep  at  the  recollection  that  at  roll  call 
dear  voices  never  again  responded.  Their  record  in 
the  main  was  no  different  from  that  of  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  brave  lads — and  let  us  tell  the  truth,  on 
both  sides — whose  courage,  heroism  and  daring  has 
made  the  name  "American,"  whether  of  the  north  or 

243 


PLUCK 

of  the  south,  when  worthily  borne,  equal  to  the  title 
of  "Prince." 

This  whole  war,  in  which  were  enlisted  on  the 
Union  side  alone  more  than  two  and  one-half  million 
of  men,  of  whom  about  one  million  were  constantly  in 
the  service,  was  the  most  obstinately  and  bravely 
fought  of  any  war  recorded  in  modern  history.  Meas- 
ured by  the  losses  in  killed  and  wounded,  as  battles 
always  are,  it  showed  such  stupendous  courage  and 
daring,  and  utter  disregard  of  death  in  the  determin- 
ation to  conquer,  that  it  leaves  all  other  wars  of  mod- 
ern times  far  behind.  The  losses  of  the  victor  and 
conquered  are  given  as  approximating  one  million 
men. 

In  song  and  story  have  been  immortalized  the  sub- 
lime courage  of  the  Guards  of  Inkennann,  the  Ninety- 
third  Highlanders,  the  famous  charge  of  the  Light 
Brigade,  the  terrible  fighting  and  losses  at  Mars  La 
Tour  and  Gravelotte ;  but  think  of  it,  in  our  civil  war 
there  were  more  than  one  hundred  regiments,  each  of 
which  in  some  one  battle  suffered  a  greater  loss  than 
the  British  at  Inkermann,  than  any  regiment  under 
Wellington,  Blucher  or  Napoleon  at  Waterloo,  or  any 
regiment  in  the  Franco-Prussian  war!  "No  Euro- 
pean regiment,"  says  Adjutant  Charles  Richardson, 
to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  these  condensed  figures, 
"in  any  recent  struggle  suffered  such  loss  as  at  Gettys- 
burg befell  the  One  Hundred  and  First  Pennsyl- 
vania, which  lost  76  per  cent.,  or  the  Twenty-Sixth 
North  Carolina,  which  lost  72  per  cent. ;  such  as  at 
the  second  battle  of  Manasses  befell  the  One  Hun- 
dred and  First  New  York,  which  lost  74  per  cent. ; 

244 


THE  WAR 

or  the  Twenty-First  Georgia,  which  lost  76  per  cent. 
At  Cold  Harbor  the  Twenty-First  Massachusetts  lost 
70  per  cent.,  and  the  Tenth  Tennessee  at  Chicka- 
maugua  lost  68  per  cent. ;  at  Shiloh  theNinth  Illinois 
lost  69  per  cent,  and  the  Sixth  Mississippi  70  per 
cent. ;  while  at  Antietam  the  First  Texas  met  the  ap- 
palling loss  of  82  per  cent."  And  so  the  list  con- 
tinues until  "more  than  152  regiments  are  found  to 
have  lost  to  exceed  50  per  cent.,  and  more  than  500 
Union  regiments  that  suffered  a  greater  loss  in  killed 
and  wounded  than  that  which  befell  the  Light 
Brigade  at  Balaklava  (and  nobody  blundered  either), 
which  was  only  36.7  per  cent." 

With  such  a  record  of  a  whole  army,  can  you  doubt 
but  that  Phillip  and  Jack  also  did  their  duty  ?  Jack 
served  to  the  close  of  the  war  and  returned  as  Colonel. 
Phillip  was  disabled  in  May,  1863,  and  brevetted 
Lieutenant  Colonel  for  bravery  in  his  last  battle. 
Perhaps  I  ought  to  tell  more,  but  I  will  not  now — not 
in  this  book.  Let  the  following  brief  mention  of  facts 
suffice: 

Jack  was  wounded  twice  and  that  in  quick  succes- 
sion: The  first  time  by  a  bayonet  thrust  in  the  left 
arm,  at  the  time  he  was  taken  prisoner,  and  the  next 
by  a  bullet  which  passed  through  the  muscles  of  the 
leg,  while  escaping  from  his  captors  a  day  later.  He 
and  six  others  had  been  out  on  a  foraging  expedition 
and  were  resting  in  the  shade  of  a  tree  with  their 
booty.  Nothing  had  been  seen  of  the  enemy  for  sev- 
eral days  and  the  party,  feeling  secure,  had  stacked 
their  muskets  against  a  tree,  and  were  eating  their 
dinner.  Suddenly,  from  the  neighboring  bushes,  a 

245 


PLUCK 

squad  of  Confederate  soldiers  emerged  and  ordered 
them  to  surrender.  Jack,  always  impetuous,  reached 
for  his  musket,  but  would  have  been  pinioned  to  the 
tree  by  the  bayonet  of  one  of  the  enemy  had  not  a 
comrade  diverted  the  thrust.  As  it  was  he  received 
a  painful,  but  not  dangerous  flesh  wound  in  the  fore- 
arm. Nothing  better  remained  to  be  done  than  to 
surrender,  as  their  captors  far  outnumbered  them  and 
had  them  at  their  mercy. 

All  day  they  marched  and  when  night  came  camped 
in  a  ravine  bordered  by  wooded  hills.  The  prisoners 
were  closely  guarded  by  two  sentinels,  while  the  others 
slept.  Before  morning  a  thunder  shower  made  sleep 
impossible,  and  the  soldiers  stood  about  their  camp 
fire,  paying  little  attention  to  the  prisoners  and  their 
guards.  Now  and  then  one  of  the  guards  would  walk 
up  to  the  fire  to  warm  himself,  keeping  a  sharp  look- 
out, however,  in  the  direction  of  the  prisoners,  while 
the  other  gloomily  paced  the  soaked  ground.  Jack  de- 
termined to  escape  whether  his  companions  followed 
or  not.  Taking  advantage  of  a  moment  when  the 
guard's  head  was  turned,  and  willing  to  risk  a  bullet 
from  the  one  at  the  fire,  he  made  a  dash  for  liberty, 
into  the  darkness.  An  instant  later  a  shot  rang  out,  and 
Jack  felt  a  sting  in  his  leg;  though  it  seemed  not  to 
have  deprived  him  of  its  use.  Quickly  changing  his 
course  in  the  pitchy  darkness,  he  heard  the  shots  of 
the  others,  but  they  did  not  come  in  his  direction.  He 
kept  blindly  on  till  he  became  aware  that  he  had 
reached  the  hillside,  when  he  stopped  to  regain  breath. 
He  felt  of  his  leg  and  found  warm  blood  oozing  from 

246 


'He  made  a.  dash  for  liberty,  into  the  darkness. 


THE  WAR 

a  wound  near  the  thigh.  Removing  his  coat,  he  took 
off  his  shirt  and  tore  it  in  strips  for  a  bandage.  This 
he  tightly  bound  around  his  leg  and  succeeded  in 
staunching  the  flow  of  blood.  Then  he  slowly  com- 
menced the  ascent  of  the  hill. 

As  he  reached  the  top,  after  half  an  hour's  climb- 
ing, the  storm  broke  up  and  the  retreating  clouds 
showed  dawn  at  hand.  He  sat  down  to  rest,  and  as 
daylight  came,  he  could  distinctly  see  the  smoke  of 
his  captors'  camp  fire  in  the  distant  valley.  He  knew 
the  direction  he  had  been  brought  and  about  where  the 
Federal  forces  must  be.  Slowly  and  laboriously  he 
made  his  way  to  the  Union  lines,  arriving  there  on 
the  third  day — having  had  no  food  during  the  whole 
dreary  march  and  suffering  tortures  from  the  fever 
produced  by  his  wound.  But  one  month  thereafter 
he  was  again  in  the  ranks.  In  all  the  battles  in 
which  he  took  part,  and  in  one  of  which  his  whole 
company  was  shattered,  the  second  lieutenant,  cap- 
tain and  sergeant  killed,  he  escaped  without  a  scratch. 
His  very  first  promotion  was  from  the  ranks  to  sec- 
ond lieutenant,  and  further  advancement  followed 
in  time. 

Neither  will  I  here  give  our  hero's  war  record  any 
extended  notice.  Those  who  have  followed  the  de- 
velopment of  his  character  and  know  his  cool,  de- 
liberate, fearless  nature  and  devotion  to  duty,  the  fact 
that  from  the  ranks  he  rose  to  captaincy  and  was 
finally,  when  disabled,  bre vetted  lieutenant  colonel, 
will  be  sufficiently  satisfied  that  his  record,  too,  was  a 
proud  one.  Let  me,  therefore,  revert  only  to  the  clos- 
ing scene  of  his  activity  as  a  soldier. 

247 


PLUCK 

It  will  be  remembered  that  when  General  Grant  in 
the  spring  of  1863,  determined  to  capture  Vicksburg, 
and  after  desperate  efforts  to  reach  the  south  side  of 
that  "Gibraltar  of  the  West"  finally  succeeded  in  the 
last  days  of  April,  it  was  his  intention  to  capture 
Grand  Gulf  and  make  it  the  base  of  his  operations. 
On  the  29th,  after  an  engagement  lasting  five  hours, 
the  attempt  was  abandoned.  During  the  night  Grant's 
army  moved  farther  south,  and  crossed  to  the  east 
shore  in  the  morning,  landing  at  Bruinsburgh.  Be- 
fore proceeding  against  Vicksburg  it  was  necessary 
to  clear  away  the  danger  of  attack  from  the  rear. 
Without  an  instant  delay,  he,  therefore,  ordered  Gen- 
eral McClernand  to  proceed  against  Port  Gibson. 
McClernand  met  the.  enemy  about  eight  miles  from 
the  city,  and  drove  them  back.  In  the  morning  he 
again  came  upon  them  only  four  miles  distant, 
strongly  entrenched  in  two  highways  running  along 
the  summit  of  hills  bordered  on  both  sides  by  im- 
passable ravines.  Bertram  was  at  that  time  captain 
of  a  company  under  Osterhaus. 

Hoovey's,  Carr's  and  Smith's  divisions  were  or- 
dered to  attack  the  right  wing,  while  Osterhaus  pro- 
ceeded against  the  left.  A  desperate  battle  ensued, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  timely  support  of  Logan's 
division,  the  result  might  have  been  different.  On 
the  arrival  of  these  reinforcements  the  attack  became 
so  terrific  and  irresistible  that  the  enemy  fled  in  dis- 
order bordering  on  rout.  A  thousand  prisoners  were 
made,  and  five  cannons  captured,  but  the  Union  loss 
in  killed  and  wounded  was  eight  hundred  and  fifty. 

248 


THE  WAH 

Bertram  and  his  company  were  in  the  front  ranks, 
and  he  had  unusually  distinguished  himself  by  his 
wonderful  coolness  and  daring.  Just  as  the  enemy 
were  breaking  up  in  disorder,  and  our  soldiers  saw 
that  theirs  was  the  victory,  he  was  seen  to  sway  from 
side  to  side — the  sword  falling  from  his  grasp,  the 
uplifted  hand  sinking  helplessly  to  his  side — and  the 
next  moment  reel  and  fall  forward  on  his  face.  A 
dozen  comrades  rushed  to  his  assistance;  but  he 
pointed  with  feeble  hand  to  the  enemy,  and  they  un- 
derstood. Two  remained,  however,  and  carried  him, 
now  insensible,  to  the  rear.  With  the  other  wounded 
he  was  taken  to  the  camp  hospital  and  examined.  The 
surgeon  found  that  he  had  been  shot  in  the  breast, 
the  bullet  passing  through  the  left  lobe  of  the  lung 
and  lodging  in  the  muscles  of  the  back.  "Not  neces- 
sarily fatal,  but  likely  to  be,"  was  the  verdict. 

After  quickly  dressing  the  wound,  the  surgeon  hur- 
ried on  to  others  that  needed  his  help.  Next  morning 
he  came  again,  and,  seeing  Phillip  looking  intelligent- 
ly at  him,  exclaimed  cheerily,  "What,  not  dead  yet! 
Then  you  have  a  chance  for  life.  I  must  examine 
your  wound  again." 

"If  you  can  stand  it  to  have  the  bullet  cut  out  it 
will  increase  your  chances  of  recovery — the  wound 
can  then  heal  both  ways.  The  bullet  lies  so  near  the 
outer  surface  it  ought  to  be  removed,"  he  said,  after 
a  short  examination. 

"Then  I  will  stand  it,"  was  Phillip's  weak  answer. 

Another  surgeon  was  called  to  assist.  Quickly  the 
incision  was  made  and  the  bullet  removed.  But,  be- 
fore the  wound  could  be  washed  and  dressed,  uncon- 

249 


PLUCK 

consciousness  had  mercifully  come  to  the  patient's  re- 
lief. "It's  best  so,"  the  surgeon  muttered  as  they  fin- 
ished their  work,  "he  will  feel  better  when  he  comes 
to." 

And  there  our  hero  lay  for  two  long,  weary  months. 
When  the  fever,  caused  by  his  wound,  began  to  sub- 
side and  he  seemed  on  the  fair  road  to  recovery,  a  new 
complication  set  in :  He  was  attacked  by  Southern  or 
"swamp"  fever.  The  nursing  could  not  be  of  the 
best,  although  heroic  women,  following  in  the  train 
of  war's  devastating  sweep  like  ministering  angels, 
worked  untiringly  for  the  relief  of  the  victims.  The 
number  was  too  great  to  do  justice  to  them  all.  Day 
upon  day  new  sufferers  arrived,  while  a  few  returned 
to  duty  and  many  more  were  conveyed  to  a  silent,  an 
eternal  resting  place. 

At  length  Vicksburg  surrendered !  On  the  Fourth 
day  of  July  the  victorious  Union  hosts  marched  into 
the  city  and  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  of  Liberty 
waved  from  the  citadel.  The  Mississippi  was  open  to 
the  north,  and  when  Port  Hudson  fell  a  few  days 
later,  that  great  highway  of  commerce  was  ours  to 
the  Gulf. 

Many  of  the  invalids  were  now  sent  north  in  trans- 
ports, some  to  Memphis,  some  to  St.  Louis  and  some 
to  Chicago.  Phillip,  whose  iron  constitution  had  bat- 
tled for  weeks  with  the  consuming  fever,  was  again 
beginning  to  recover;  and,  although  he  was  consid- 
ered still  too  feeble  to  be  removed,  he  begged  so  earn- 
estly to  be  taken  along  that  consent  was  finally  given, 
and,  with  the  others,  he  was  loaded  on  a  transport 
and  carried  up  the  river.  He  felt  as  though  the  nearer 

250 


THE  WAR 

he  could  be  to  his  forest  Jiome  in  the  cool  climate  of 
the  north,  the  more  certain  would  be  his  recovery. 

At  St.  Louis,  those  destined  for  Chicago  were 
transferred  to  coaches  on  the  Illinois  Central  railroad 
and  carried  the  remainder  of  the  distance  by  rail. 
And  what  a  lot  of  armless,  legless,  maimed  cripples 
they  were !  Pale  and  wan,  the  ravages  of  privation, 
wound  and  disease  had  stamped  themselves  on  every 
countenance.  The  weaker  ones  were  lying  on  cots 
and  straw  mattresses  longing  for  the  coming  time  of 
quiet  and  rest.  At  length  they  arrived  at  Chicago  and 
were  conveyed  to  the  hospitals.  With  a  sigh  of  relief 
our  hero  felt  the  motion  of  being  carried  cease.  The 
trip  had  been  too  much  for  him — a  moment  he  lay 
staring  at  the  high  ceiling,  then  he  became  uncon- 
scious. 

How  long  he  remained  in  that  condition  he  did  not 
know  until  after  many  days.  But  all  the  time  he 
seemed  so  happy — ministering  angels  seemed  to  sur- 
round him.  Often  he  could  hear  his  mother's  voice 
talking  soothingly  to  him  as  in  his  childhood;  then 
again  his  father  spoke — strong,  earnest  words  of  ad- 
monition— thrilling,  convincing,  and  full  of  paternal 
love.  He  saw  Eda  and  Jack  sitting  in  the  forest  with 
his  arm  about  her  waist,  and  they  ran  toward  him 
again  for  the  brotherly  embrace;  again  Grandma 
O'Donnell  was  scolding  his  chum  and  lamenting  that 
he  would  bring  her  to  an  early  grave;  and  Sammy, 
and  good  old  Peter  Gross !  How  often  he  heard  the 
old  gentleman's  cheerful  voice  ringing  in  his  ears.. 
But  there  was  one  vision  which  seemed  to  be  with 
him  by  day  and  by  night,  to  hover  over  him,  to  ten- 

251 


PLUCK 

derly  caress  him,  too  soothe  his  moments  of  restless- 
ness and  irritability — so  wonderfully  lovely,  so  sweet 
and  tender — he  could  not  understand  it ;  he  was  puz- 
zled; he  thought  of  little  Bessie,  and  again  she  was 
with  him,  and  he  seemed  to  feel  her  small  arms 
about  his  neck  and  felt  her  sweet  childish  kiss 
upon  his  lips;  but  this  was  not  Bessie,  although  she 
seemed  like  her ;  was  it  an  angel  or  mortal — oh,  who 
could  it  be  ?  In  sheer  desperation  at  his  inability  to 
solve  the  mystery,  he  gave  up  the  attempt  and  yielded 
himself  unquestioningly  to  its  sweet  influence.  At 
length  he  thought  he  awoke,  but  seemed  so  weak,  oh, 
so  weak  and  tired,  he  could  not  open  his  eyes.  One 
effort  he  would  make — and  when  he  looked  up  the 
room  seemed  in  semi-darkness.  He  thought  he  heard 
a  quick  movement  at  his  bedside  and  the  whispered 
words,  full  of  infinite  gratitude,  "Thank  God !"  and 
again  he  closed  his  eyes  and  slept. 


252 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DOCTOE  LAWRENCE  AND  BESSIE. 

CHILLY,  drizzling  rain  was  falling  on 
the  day  of  Phillip's  arrival  in  Chicago. 
In  a  substantial  brick  residence,  on 
Ada  street,  a  physician  might  have  been 
seen  slowly  pacing  up  and  down  his  study.  His  hands 
were  folded  behind  him,  his  head  bent  as  if  in  deep 
thought.  Of  medium  height,  with  broad  forehead 
limning  well  back  to  reach  a  fair  circle  of  silvered 
hair,  rather  thin,  pale  cheeks,  furrowed  and  clean 
shaven,  a  round  chin,  mobile  and  expressive  lips  part- 
ly covered  by  a  curling  moustache,  with  deep  set, 
thoughtful  looking  eyes — he  looked  the  student  and 
worker  that  he  was. 

"Why  dream  of  bygone  days  ?"  he  muttered,  stop- 
ping in  his  walk,  "they  can  never  come  back."  He 
paused,  but  in  a  moment  added,  "If  only  our  little 
girl  will  meet  her  happiness.  I  must  work  on  until 
I  meet  her  beyond  the  shores."  He  picked  up  his 
medicine  case,  examined  the  phials,  added  to  the 
contents  of  some  from  the  shelves  of  a  large  cup- 
board, then,  putting  on  his  raincoat  and  hat,  left  the 
house. 

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PLUCK 

It  was  our  old  acquaintance,  Doctor  Lawrence, 
whom  we  last  saw  nearly  eighteen  years  ago  at  Cas- 
tle Garden  in  New  York,  the  father  of  Phillip's 
dream-child  Bessie.  When  he  left  New  York  he  went 
to  Boston,  as  he  had  intended,  and  resumed  his  prac- 
tice. His  wife's  health,  however,  which  had  been 
much  improved  by  the  trip  to  Europe,  took  a  turn  for 
the  worse,  and  he  concluded  to  try  a  milder  climate. 
He  went  to  Memphis  and  remained  there  two  years. 
At  first  Mrs.  Lawrence's  health  seemed  to  improve, 
but  soon  again  took  a  turn  for  the  worse,  and  she  died 
just  when  her  husband's  practice  had  assumed  its 
largest  proportions.  His  grief  was  great — nor  could 
he  bear  to  remain  in  the  city  where  death's  angel  had 
taken  her  from  him.  He  took  his  child,  then  between 
seven  and  eight  years  of  age,  and  removed  to  Chicago. 
At  the  same  time  he  wrote  to  his  widowed  sister  at 
Buffalo,  offering  her  a  home  and  praying  her  to  keep 
house  for  him  and  help  him  bring  up  his  little  girl. 
She  gladly  complied  with  his  request,  and  soon 
learned  to  love  the  child  as  her  own. 

Dr.  Lawrence  now  threw  himself  with  almost 
fierce  energy  into  practice ;  to  forget  the  pain  in  his 
o\vn  heart  he  devoted  himself  unsparingly  to  the  alle- 
viation of  the  sufferings  of  others,  with  the  result 
that  his  practice  grew  to  enormous  proportions  and 
his  income  rose  in  accordance.  He  had  neither  time 
nor  inclination  to  look  for  secure  loans,  but  bought 
real  estate,  as  offering  at  least  a  safe  means  of  invest- 
ment. The  rapid  growth  of  the  city,  however,  soon 
made  his  property  double  and  quadruple  in  value,  so 

254: 


that,  at  the  time  when  we  again  meet  him,  he  was 
considered  a  moderately  wealthy  man. 

When  the  war  broke  out  and  the  city  hospitals  be- 
came crowded  with  the  wounded  and  sick,  and  it  be- 
came difficult  to  obtain  sufficient  medical  attendance, 
he  determined  to  give  up  his  practice  and  devote  him- 
self gratuitously  to  the  relief  of  the  disabled  soldiers. 
Thus  it  is  that  we  find  him,  pacing  the  floor,  his 
thoughts  still  dwelling  on  the  loss  of  his  dear  one, 
then  resolutely  putting  them  aside  and  making  his 
way  to  one  of  the  hospitals. 

Arrived  there,  he  was  informed  of  the  large  num- 
ber of  new  patients  just  received.  Other  physicians 
were  already  active ;  wounds  were  being  dressed  and 
medicines  administered.  Neatly  attired  nurses 
moved  quietly  from  cot  to  cot,  attending  to  the  wants 
of  the  sufferers.  Presently  one  of  them  approached 
with  quick  and  silent  step  and  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"Doctor,  please  come  with  me,  Doctor  Pierce  wishes 
to  see  you." 

Following  the  nurse,  he  found  Doctor  Pierce 
bending  over  one  of  the  patients,  holding  a  small 
mirror  to  the  slightly  parted  lips.  As  Doctor  Law- 
rence came  up,  he  turned,  saying:  "Just  alive,  and 
that  is  all.  He  must  have  been  unconscious  ever 
since  his  arrival,  an  hour  ago." 

Together  they  examined  his  wound,  which  had 
started  bleeding  afresh,  dressed  it,  and  then  ap- 
plied restoratives  to  the  sick  man.  After  a  time  his 
breathing  became  more  perceptible,  and  he  opened  his 
eyes:  "This  is  terrible  boys,  terrible,  but  we  must 
obey  orders."  "Yes,"  he  added,  "we'll  do  it  if  we 

255 


PLUCK 

die."  Then  a  look  of  pleasure  glided  over  his  pale 
and  haggard  face.  "Yes,  yes,  I  knew  you'd  say  that, 
we'll  win  or  die  together,"  and  then  he  mumbled  inco- 
herently, while  his  eyes  had  that  vacant  look  which 
showed  delirium. 

"The  trip  was  too  much  for  the  poor  fellow,"  Doc- 
tor Lawrence  quietly  said,  taking  the  patient's  tem- 
perature. "He  has  evidently  had  the  Southern  fever 
and  has  relapsed.  His  wound  alone  is  bad  enough, 
and  this  relapse  is  likely  to  carry  him  off."  He  then 
counseled  Doctor  Pierce  how  to  best  treat  his  patient, 
and  was  about  to  leave  to  look  to  the  others  when 
something  in  the  young  soldier's  countenance  arrest- 
ed his  attention.  "Strange,"  he  said,  turning  partly 
toward  his  companion  while  his  eyes  still  rested  on 
the  patient,  "his  face  seems  familiar,  as  though  I  had 
at  some  time  met  him.  Do  you  know  who  he  is,  have 
you  seen  the  lists  ?" 

"No,"  the  other  answered,  "I  hardly  ever  look  at 
them  and  today  I  have  been  too  busy." 

After  several  hours  of  the  most  trying  labor,  Doc- 
tor Lawrence  returned  to  take  another  look  at  the 
young  man ;  then  he  turned  toward  the  secretary's  of- 
fice and  asked  to  see  the  list  of  new  arrivals.  Carefully 
he  ran  his  eyes  over  the  long  rows  of  names,  until, 
near  the  end,  he  saw  that  of  "Captain  Phillip  Ber- 
tram." He  quickly  returned  the  roll  to  the  secretary 
and  went  back  to  the  delirious  soldier.  "Yes,  yes,  it 
must  be  he — poor  boy  to  thus  find  you  again !"  Long 
he  gazed  at  him,  endeavoring  to  think  what  he  could 
do  to  make  his  last  hours  easier.  Finally  he  turned 

256 


DOCTOR  LAWRENCE  AND  BESSIE 

away  quickly  and  with  hasty  step  started  for  his 
home. 

He  let  himself  into  the  house  and  went  straight  to 
the  family  sitting-room  where  he  found  his  sister  and 
daughter  Bessie.  Both  arose  and  the  latter  instantly 
ran  to  him,  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed 
him  repeatedly. 

"There,  there,  that  will  do,"  he  said,  affectionately, 
as  he  gently  unclasped  her  hands  and  started  to  re- 
move his  raincoat,  helped  by  his  sister. 

"What  is  it  papa  ?"  Bessie  asked  anxiously,  as  she 
noticed  an  unusually  grave  look  in  his  eyes. 

"Sit  down  my  dear,  here  close  to  me;  you  too, 
Aggie,  bring  your  chair  to  the  fireplace,  this  east 
wind  is  chilly  and  damp ;  I  want  to  tell  you  a  little 
story." 

"Some  years  ago,"  he  began  speaking  in  slow  mono- 
tone, when  they  had  complied  with  his  request  and 
Bessie's  hand  was  clasped  in  his  own,  "a  man  whom 
you  both  know  took  his  sick  wife  to  Europe  hoping 
that  its  famous  baths  and  the  change  of  climate  might 
affect  a  cure.  They  took  with  them  their  little  child, 
the  treasure  of  their  hearts,  and  they  remained  as 
long  as  their  means  would  permit.  Their  hopes 
were  partially  realized,  at  least  there  was  great  im- 
provement in  the  wife's  condition.  But  the  sea  was 
tempestuous  and  mother  and  child  were  largely  con- 
fined to  their  little  room.  One  day  that  disease, 
dreaded  most  of  all  on  a  crowded  ship,  smallpox, 
broke  out  and  spread  to  such  an  extent  that  the 
ship's  physician  was  unable  alone  to  care  for  the 
afflicted.  The  man  I  am  speaking  of  was  a 

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PLUCK 

physician  of  some  experience,  and  humanity  de- 
manded that  he  join  in  the  care  of  the  sick.  On 
that  same  ship  there  was  a  little  German  boy  about 
ten  or  eleven  years  of  age  whom  poverty  had  com- 
pelled to  leave  home  and  parents  and  who  was  going 
to  America  to  make  his  own  living.  A  warm 
attachment  seemed  to  spring  up  between  the  child 
and  the  boy  and  they  were  inseparable  companions. 
One  day  the  child  was  taken  sick — it  soon  developed 
into  a  dangerous  fever — the  mother  by  this  time  lay 
prostrate  in  her  berth — the  father  could  not  con- 
stantly remain  with  his  child,  but  the  little  boy  did !" 

His  voice  was  unsteady  and  he  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment. Bessie's  hand  had  long  before  begun  to  trem- 
ble in  his,  while  she  earnestly  watched  his  face,  and 
Aunt  Aggie  was  listening  with  rapt  attention. 

"The  little  boy's  devotion  contributed  much  to 
save  the  child's  life." 

Again  he  paused  for  an  instant  in  which  Bessie 
exclaimed  "Oh  papa,  it  was  Phillip." 

"Ah,  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  him,"  he  resumed 
with  a  sad  smile  as  he  glanced  at  her  excited  face. 

"Oh  papa!"  she  answered  as  she  looked  reproach- 
fully at  him. 

"Yes  dear,  I  know  your  affectionate  little  heart; 
you  have  never  forgotten  that  boy.  For  years  your 
little  childish  prayers  included  him.  But  pray  for 
him  again  my  child,  he  needs  it  most  now." 

"Papa,"  Bessie  exclaimed  as  she  sprang  to  her 
feet  and  stood  before  him,  a  deep  pallor  suddenly 
overspreading  her  face,  "you  have  seen  him  again! 
He  is  injured  1" 

258 


DOCTOR  LAWRENCE  AND  BESSIE 

"Yes,  but  come,  dear,  don't  excite  yourself,  sit 
down,  yes  on  my  lap  if  you  will —  '  as  she  seated 
herself  on  his  knee  while  he  passed  his  arm  about 
her — "Why,  how  you  tremble !" 

"That  man,  Aggie,"  he  resumed,  addressing  his 
sister,  "was  myself,  and  the  child  was  our  Bessie. 
The  little  boy's  name  was  Phillip  Bertram.  I  have 
never  seen  or  heard  of  him  again  until  I  saw  him 
today  among  the  wounded  soldiers  in  the  hospital — 
dying."  His  voice  shook  with  emotion  as  he  ended, 
and  his  daughter  was  weeping  on  his  breast. 

"I  thought,"  he  began  again,  "that  perhaps  you 
two  would  be  willing  that  I  have  him  brought  here, 
to  give  him  the  only  chance  for  life,  or  at  least  make 
his  last  hours  easier." 

Bessie  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  tears  vanishing  while 
sorrow  and  hope  struggled  for  supremacy:  "Oh, 
do,  dear  papa,  do,  Aunt  Aggie  and  I  will  nurse  him  to 
life!"  she  exclaimed  excitedly. 

Again  he  made  her  sit  down;  and  then  he  told 
them  of  the  patient's  condition.  There  was  some 
risk  in  removing  him,  but  less  now  whlie  the  delirium 
lasted  than  later;  and  then,  absolute  quiet  was  his 
only  chance  for  life.  He  would  also  employ  an 
assistant  to  be  at  hand  in  case  the  sick  man  should 
become  violent. 


259 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

PHILLIP  AND  BESSIE. 


ROOM  was  prepared  and  all  the  arrange- 
ments made  that  night.  In  the  morning 
the  stricken  soldier,  tenderly  covered  and 
protected,  was  carried  by  two  stalwart  fel- 
lows to  the  doctor's  house. 

In  a  room  of  semi-darkness,  on  a  bed  soft  and  yield- 
ing, they  laid  him.  But  he  knew  it  not.  As  well 
might  he  have  lain  on  the  sun  baked  earth,  with  the 
hot  Southern  rays  scorching  his  body;  he  would  not 
have  felt  the  difference — the  fever  was  burning  with- 
in. 

How  Bessie  at  first  gazed  at  those  drawn  features ; 
how  she  sought  for  a  semblance  to  the  sturdy  little 
boy  of  her  memory,  for  whom  she  had  so  often 
prayed  even  to  the  present  day,  in  the  tall  wasted 
form  of  the  stricken  soldier  before  her!  He  looked 
at  her,  he  spoke,  but  his  look  showed  no  intelligence, 
his  mutterings  were  incoherent.  All  day  they  sat 
silently  at  the  bedside,  Bessie  on  one  side,  Aunt 
Aggie  on  the  other,  and  at  night  they  took  turns 
sleeping  on  a  couch  near  the  bed.  They  dressed  his 
wound  and  bathed  his  fevered  body,  and  soothed  him 
in  his  excited  moments.  There  was  no  danger  of  his 
becoming  violent,  his  strength  was  too  nearly  ex- 

260 


PHILLIP  AND  BESSIE 

hausted.  For  two  weeks  he  hovered  on  the  brink  of 
eternity;  often  Bessie  bent  over  him  with  beating 
heart  to  listen  whether  he  still  breathed.  Some- 
times he  spoke  in  a  whisper,  she  would  catch  a  name, 
"mother,"  "Jack."  Once  she  was  sure  he  said 
"Bessie,"  and  she  started  back  amazed,  thinking  he 
had  recognized  her,  but  no,  the  next  word  showed  his 
mind  was  wandering.  But  how  her  heart  beat! 
What  was  coming  over  her,  she  seemed  only  at  ease 
when  near  him,  soothing  him  with  gentle  caressing 
hand — and  how  quickly  he  would  become  quiet  under 
her  touch. 

The  weeks  slowly  passed  and  the  little  flame  of 
life  was  still  burning,  though  feeble.  Of  late  Bessie 
had  often  knelt  at  his  bedside  when  alone,  prayed 
for  him,  held,  carressed,  kissed  his  hand,  and  once 
quickly,  gently,  the  fevered  lips;  and  how  the  rich 
blood  mounted  to  her  cheeks,  as  she  looked  to  see 
whether  any  one  had  seen  her,  though  she  knew  no 
one  else  was  present! 

One  afternoon,  while  Aunt  Aggie  had  gone  out 
on  an  errand,  and  Bessie  was  kneeling  at  the  bedside, 
as  she  often  did  when  alone,  earnestly  watching  the 
oft  changing  expression  of  his  face,  she  saw  him 
slowly  open  his  eyes.  The  vacant  look  had  gone, 
intelligence  reigned  again!  "Thank  God"  she 
whispered  as  an  overwhelming  joy  came  over  her. 
Breathlessly  she  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment,  saw 
him  slowly  close  his  eyes,  and  soon  his  regular  breath- 
ing showed  that  he  had  fallen  into  a  deep,  health- 
giving  sleep.  Unable  to  restrain  her  emotions,  and 
fearing  to  disturb  the  sleeper,  she  hastened  from  the 

261 


PLUCK 

room  where  her  presence  was  not  now  needed,  and 
met  her  father  just  returning  from  his  labors.  She 
threw  herself  upon  his  breast,  and  wept  passionately. 
Startled  and  fearing  the  worst,  he  carried  her  to  the 
sofa  and  sat  down  with  her  on  his  lap,  her  arms  still 
around  his  neck. 

"What  is  it  my  little  girl"  he  asked  tenderly.  "Is 
he  dead  ?" 

But  she  only  shook  her  head,  still  unable  to  speak. 
"Oh  I  am  so  glad,"  she  finally  whispered,  while  tears 
of  joy  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks.  "He  will 
live,  he  opened  his  eyes  for  a  moment  and  I  saw  he 
was  again  in  his  right  mind,  then  he  closed  them 
slowly  and  fell  asleep." 

"Then  my  little  girl's  sacrifice  was  not  in  vain,  and 
she  has  paid  her  debt  of  gratitude.  But  now,  dear, 
go  to  your  room,  sleep  and  rest,  you  are  all  worn  out ; 
I  will  stay  with  Phillip  until  Aunt  Aggie  returns." 

Obediently  she  went,  and  a  happier  maiden  never 
gave  thanks  to  God  with  more  grateful  heart  than 
Bessie  did  before  she  slept. 

That  night  Dr.  Lawrence  occupied  the  couch  in  the 
sick  room,  to  be  at  hand  when  the  patient  awoke. 
But  he  did  not  awake ;  all  night  and  all  the  following 
day  and  succeeding  night  he  slept  on  without  awaken- 
ing. The  ghastly  pallor  that  at  first  succeeded  the 
fever  tinted  color  of  the  face,  was  slowly  giving  way 
to  a  more  natural  appearance.  The  expression  be- 
came calm  and  peaceful,  the  breathing  regular  and 
stronger.  It  was  plainly  perceptible  that  nature 
was  working  a  great  change  for  the  better  during 
that  long  sleep. 

262 


PHILLIP  AND  BESSIE 

The  second  morning,  when  he  finally  awoke,  Dr. 
Lawrence  was  alone  in  the  room  with  him.  He 
opened  his  eyes  and  slowly  turned  them  about;  the 
doctor,  who  had  been  watching  him,  came  closer  to 
the  bedside.  "Where  am  I  ?"  Phillip  inquired  feebly, 
almost  in  a  whisper. 

"You  are  in  good  hands,  Captain.  I  will  tell  you 
all  you  may  know  for  the  present,  but  you  must  be 
wholly  silent ;  absolute  quiet  and  rest  alone  will  save 
your  life,"  Dr.  Lawrence  answered  in  a  low  soothing 
voice.  "I  am  an  old  acquaintance  of  yours,  Dr. 
Lawrence;"  he  stopped  as  he  saw  the  light  in  the 
sick  man's  eyes  grow  in  intensity.  "If  it  excites  you 
I  must  stop,"  he  said,  feeling  for  the  pulse. 

"Please  tell  me  more,"  Phillip  pleaded,  "it  will 
not  harm  me." 

"Soon  after  you  arrived  at  the  Chicago  hospital," 
the  doctor  continued,  with  his  hand  on  the  sick  man's 
pulse,  "I  discovered  who  you  were  and  had  you 
brought  to  my  house.  My  little  girl  and  her  Aunt 
Agnes,  my  sister,  have  nursed  you  and  will  take  care 
of  you  yet.  This  is  all  you  may  know  now;  be 
patient  and  all  will  be  well." 

"Doctor,"  Phillip  whispered,  "your  little  girl— is 
_it_ Bessie?"  "Yes,  Phillip,"  the  doctor  replied, 
for  the  first  time  addressing  him  by  the  old  familiar 
name,  while  a  happy  smile  crept  to  his  face,  "it  is 
Bessie." 

"And  Mrs.— Lawrence  ?"  Phillip  whispered  again, 
looking  earnestly  at  the  kindly  face  before  him. 

263 


PLUCK 

"Is  in  heaven,"  was  the  quiet  answer.  "But  now 
no  more  for  today.  I  will  send  my  sister  and  Bessie, 
but  you  must  ask  no  questions." 

So  saying  he  took  his  departure,  while  Phillip,,  as 
he  slowly  realized  how  in  his  hour  of  deepest  dark- 
ness a  Protecting  Hand  had  safely  led  him,  let  the 
silent  tears  force  their  way  through  the  fallen  lids 
and  roll  down  upon  his  pillow.  A  few  moments  later 
he  fell  again  into  light  slumber. 

When  he  awoke  he  saw  the  outlines  of  a  slight 
form  standing  near  the  bed,  with  one  hand  resting 
on  the  covering  and  the  other  pressed  to  her  left  side. 
He  could  not  at  first  discern  the  features,  but  grad- 
ually, as  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  subdued 
light,  he  saw  before  him  the  vision  of  his  dreams,  the 
sweet  face  that  had  hovered  over  and  about  him  in 
the  hours  of  his  delirium,  the  gentle  presence  that  had 
soothed  his  restless  moments.  "Bessie"  he  muttered, 
and  what  a  world  of  feeling  was  expressed  in  that 
one  word,  what  a  light  of  happiness  shone  in  those 
deeply  sunken  eyes ! 

"Hush,"  she  said  softly,  as  she  approached  closer, 
"papa  says  you  must  not  speak,"  and  she  sat  down  on 
a  chair  near  his  side  and  held  his  wasted  hand. 

Silently  they  sat  there,  until  those  happy  earnest 
eyes,  that  seemed  to  devour  her  very  soul,  brought 
the  crimson  blood  to  her  cheeks  and  made  her  droop 
her  own.  But  she  did  not  let  go  his  hand,  and  the 
tremble  of  his  received  its  response  in  the  quick 
pulsation  of  hers.  Long  they  sat  there,  unconscious 
of  the  flight  of  time.  Mrs  Hill,  coming  in  an  hour 
later,  found  them  still  in  the  same  position,  except 

264 


PHILLIP  AND  BESSIE 

that  the  girl's  head  had  fallen  forward  on  the  bedding 
—both  had  fallen  asleep. 

Slow,  slow  was  Phillip's  recovery.  His  strong 
constitution  had  been  tested  to  its  utmost.  For 
weeks,  aye  months,  it  had  fought  a  prolonged  des- 
perate battle  with  the  forces  of  death,  and  when  it 
had  finally  conquered,  he  was  weaker  than  a  child. 
Most  tenderly  his  friends  cared  for  him,  and  their 
loving  devotion  did  not  abate. 

About  three  weeks  from  the  time  when  he  first 
came  to  consciousness,  he  was  permitted  to  sit  up  a 
little  while  during  the  day ;  gradually,  as  he  gained 
more  in  strength,  the  length  and  frequency  of  the 
periods  were  increased.  At  such  times  Bessie  was  his 
constant  companion.  Little  by  little  she  related  all 
that  had  transpired  in  her  short  life,  and  Phillip,  in 
turn,  unfolded  the  story  of  his,  until  each  seemed  to 
see  the  other's  very  soul  mirrored  before  them. 

One  day,  while  Phillip  was  still  quite  weak,  and 
soon  after  he  was  first  permitted  to  sit  up  and  use 
the  sofa,  padded  with  pillows,  as  a  resting  place,  he 
startled  her  while  she  was  sitting  a  short  distance 
from  him  reading  for  his  entertainment,  by  saying 
rather  abruptly: 

"Bessie,  come  here  to  me,  please." 

Quickly  she  laid  down  her  book  and  stood  before 
him.  "What  can  I  do  for  you  Phillip  ?"  she  asked 
anxiously. 

"Much,  dear,  put  your  arms  around  my  neck  and 
kiss  me." 

As  he  uttered  these  words  in  a  voice  low,  gentle 
and  vibrating  with  emotion,  he  looked  confidently  at 

265 


PLUCK 

her.  "Come,"  he  repeated  as  she  started,  then 
paused,  half  commanding,  half  beseechingly ;  and  the 
next  moment,  with  fleeting  breath  and  crimson  face 
she  clasped  her  hands  gently  about  his  neck,  kissed 
him  in  rapid  succession  three  times  upon  the  lips, 
and  sank  convulsively  weeping  upon  her  knees  before 
him,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"Oh,  I  love,  I  love  you  so,  and  you  commanded 
me,"  she  moaned  between  her  sobs. 

Slowly  and  feebly  he  bent  forward,  gently  he  laid 
his  right  hand  on  her  hair.  "Look  at  me  darling!" 

She  obeyed,  and  what  she  saw  no  pen  has  ever 
described — the  boundless  love  of  a  great  human 
heart.  "Oh!"  burst  from  her  lips  as  her  feelings 
were  swept  from  shame  to  immeasurable  joy,  and  the 
next  instant  her  hands  again  clasped  his  neck  and 
passionate  kisses  rained  on  his  lips  and  eyes.  Again 
she  sunk  on  her  knees  before  him,  this  time  unable 
to  withdraw  her  eyes  from  the  countenance  before 
her,  so  grand  and  overwhelming  was  the  happiness 
it  expressed. 

"Did  you  think  sweet  one,"  he  said  slowly,  tender- 
ly, almost  reverently,  as  she  kissed  his  pale  hand, 
"  that  I  did  not  love  you  ?  Oh,  girl,  my  love  for  you 
is  my  life,  my  soul !  I  have  always  loved  you !  In 
my  dreams  and  in  my  waking  hours  you  have  been 
near  me.  How  many  temptations  has  your  sweet 
childish  image  helped  me  to  resist!  Love  you  dar- 
ling?" he  exclaimed,  as  his  eyes  shone  with  the 
power  and  strength  of  his  great  love,  "I -will  always 
love  you!" 

266 


'Look  at  me,  darling!'  " 


PHILLIP  AND  BESSIE 

Hardly  knowing  what  she  was.  doing,  supreme 
happiness  lighting  up  her  face,  she  sprang  to  her  feet 
and  danced  around  the  room :  "Oh,  Phillip,  darling 
Phillip !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  rushed  back  to  the 
young  man  who  watched  her  in  amazement,  scarcely 
able  to  believe  that  this  impetuous  child  was  the 
modest  little  maid  who  had  nursed  him  so  sedately 
and  tenderly  during  the  long  weeks  gone,  by,  "darling 
Phillip,  I  am  so  happy !"  Then,  as  she  noticed  a 
growing  pallor  on  his  face,  she  said  in  sudden  alarm :. 
"Oh,  dearest,  you  must  lie  down!"  and  quickly  she 
was  transformed  again  into  the  gentle  nurse. 
Tenderly  she  helped  him  to  a  reclining  position  on 
the  couch  on  which  he  had  been  sitting,  and  placed 
the  soft  pillows  under  his  head.  Then,  wholly  ex- 
ceeding her  duty  as  a  nurse,  she  knelt  at  his  side, 
placed  one  hand  on  the  prostrate  man's  cheek  and 
pillowed  her  face  against  the  other. 

How  long  they  remained  in  this  position,  exchang- 
ing sweet  words  of  love,  probably  neither  could  tell ; 
but  papa's  footsteps  in  the  hallway  finally  caused 
Bessie  to  jump  up  and  run  to  meet  him. 

With  radiant  face  she  sprang  to  his  arms,  and  hid 
her  blushes  on  his  breast.  Papa  smiled  and  stroked 
her  head;  "So  he  has  found  you  out?"  he  asked 
smiling.  "Hm,  h-m,"  came  the  answer,  but  with 
such  a  completely  happy  and  satisfied  inflection,  that 
he  smiled  again. 

With  his  arm  around  her  waist,  father  and 
daughter  entered  the  room.  Dr.  Lawrence  went 
straight  up  to  Bertram,  took  his  hand  and  said  gaily, 

267 


PLUCK 

"Well,  my  son,  your  recovery  is  positively  assured 
now." 

"It  was  long  ago,"  the  latter  answered,  as  Bessie 
helped  him  to  resume  a  sitting  position.  "We  have 
only  put  the  seal  to  it,"  he  added  smiling. 

And  that  was  all  there  was  said  upon  the  subject, 
by  either  of  these  two  men.  The  father  was  entrust- 
ing the  only  remaining  treasure  of  his  life,  the  child 
of  his  heart,  to  a  young  man  born  in  poverty  and 
obscurity,  reared  in  want  and  adversity,  amidst  toil, 
privations  and  temptations,  even  now  poor  in  worldly 
possessions,  and  with  an  uncertain  future  before  him : 
The  young  man  taking  as  his  of  right  the  hand  of 
the  girl  that  loved  him.  Neither  for  a  moment 
thought  of  the  other's  worldly  position,  wealth  or 
honors;  nor  did  it  for  a  moment  strike  them  as  ex- 
traordinary that  the  daughter' of  an  American  born 
gentleman  of  refinement,  education,  wealth  and  influ- 
ence, who  might  have  made  her  choice  from  the  elect 
of  the  land,  should  joyously  unite  her  life  to  one  she 
had  first  known  as  a  little  "greenhorn"  German  boy 
in  search  of  a  living: 

And  such  is  the  true  American's  character!  He 
looks  not  to  worldly  wealth  or  honors ;  it  is  the  inter- 
nal not  the  external  qualification  of  a  man  which 
.recommends  him.  And  here  were  two  Ameri- 
cans, the  one  springing  from  the  blue  blood  of  old 
Boston  the  other  from  the  stern  old  Teutonic  race. 
Both  were  true  Americans. 


268 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HAPPY,  HAPPY,  DAYS. 

DAY  or  two  later,  as  Phillip  was  leaning 
back  on  the  sofa  in  his  usual  position,  with 
Bessie  near  by,  he  suddenly  exclaimed, 
"Oh  Bessie,  how  wrong  of  me,  how  thought- 
less and  selfish !  Won't  you  write  to  Eda  for  me, 
dear?" 

"Eda?"  Bessie  exclaimed,  a  quick  pallor  over- 
spreading her  face ;  but  instantly  it  vanished  and  her 
eyes  asked  forgiveness. 

"Jealous  so  soon,  sweetheart?"  he  said  smiling; 
"but  I  am  not  sorry.  Yes,  you  guessed  correctly,  Eda 
is  my  sister.  Who  told  you  I  had  a  sister  ?" 

"Papa  and  I  have  often  talked  about  you  and  he 
told  me  you  had  a  sister  in  Germany,"  she  answered. 

"Yes  but  she  is  in  America  now,  in  Milwaukee, 
and  she  no  doubt  is  mourning  for  me  as  dead." 

Bessie  sprang  to  her  feet.  "Oh,  I  will  write  to  her 
at  once;  but  you  must  not  reproach  yourself,  you 
were  too  feeble  to  think  much  before,"  she  exclaimed. 

"Yes  and  too  selfish  in  my  own  happiness,"  he 
added. 

Hastily  she  ran  upstairs  to  her  room  to  bring  pen 
and  ink,  then  seating  herself  at  the  table  in  the 

269 


PLUCK 

center  of  the  room,  with  the  tip  of  the  penholder  on 
her  lip,  asked,  "Well  what  shall  I  write  ?" 

"Tell  her  that  I  am  well  and  happy,  or  happy  and 
will  soon  be  well;  and  ask  her  what  news  she  has 
of  Jack,  Jack  is  her  betrothed  and  my  friend,"  he 
answered  and  explained. 

Bessie  wrote  while  Phillip  watched  the  constantly 
changing  expression  of  her  contenance. 

"There,"  she  said  with  a  happy  laugh,  after  a 
short  time,  "that  will  do ;  shall  I  read  it  to  you  ?" 
and  without  waiting  for  a  reply  began : 

"DEAREST  SISTER: 

Do  not  be  surprised  that  I  address  you  thus. 
•'Though  I'm  not  your  sister  yet,  I  will  be — soon. 
Phillip  is  going  to  marry  me,  he  must,  he  must,  and 
he  wants  to !  He  is  well  and  happy  with  us,  that  is 
he  is  not  quite  well  yet.  He  was  wounded  and  had 
a  hard  fever,  but  now  he  is  able  to  sit  up  again.  He 
wants  you  to  know,  so  that  you  will  not  feel  worried 
about  him ;  and  oh,  we  both  want  to  see  you  so  much ! 
Won't  you  come  to  see  us?  You  can  telegraph  and 
papa  will  meet  you  at  the  station.  Come,  please  do 
come !  I  must  see  you !  My  heart  is  so  full  of 
happiness,  he  is  such  a  darling  of  a  man.  I  must 
tell  you  all. 

With  a  thousand  kisses, 

Your  loving  sister, 
BESSIE  LAWRENCE. 

P.  S.  Oh,  yes  !  Phillip  wants  to  know  what  news 
you  have  of  Jack — he  says  he  is  your  sweetheart. 

BESSIE. 

270 


HAPPY,  HAPPY  DAYS 

Phillip  kissed  her  as  she  came  to  his  side  for 
approval.  "What  a  treasure  of  a  frank  open  heart 
you  have,"  was  his  only  comment. 

"But,  dearest,  you  have  not  put  down  the  address; 
if  she  could  come  or  wanted  to  write  she  would  not 
even  know  where  a  letter  would  reach  us." 

"Why  sure,  what  a  little  goose  I  am!"  and  she 
hastily  added  another  postscript,  giving  her  address. 
Then  she  sealed  it  and  rushed  out  to  deposit  it  in  the 
mail  box  near  by. 

No  telegram  came,  but  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
second  day  the  door  bell  was  heard  to  ring.  "It  is 
Eda,"  Bessie  exclaimed  excitedly,  as  she  bounded  to 
her  feet  and  rushed  into  the  hall.  A  moment  later 
two  happy  girls  were  folded  in  each  other's  arms. 
There  was  no  need  of  an  introduction  here,  one  look 
and  each  knew  the  truth. 

The  meeting  between  the  sister  and  the  brother 
mourned  as  dead,  the  sisterly  love  that  quickly 
sprang  to  life  between  the  two  young  girls  and  the 
confidences  they  poured  into  each  other's  ears,  the 
endless  happy  conversations  between  them  all, — let 
us  pass  them  by.  It  was  all  of  deep  meaning  and 
importance  to  the  participants  at  the  time,  but  will 
interest  the  reader  less.  Jack  was  still  at  the  front 
and  Eda  heard  from  him  as  often  as  could  be  ex- 
pected with  the  poor  mail  communication  of  that 
time.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baldwin  were  well,  and  Old 
Bauernfeind  on  Phillip's  farm  was  developing  into 
quite  a  genius  as  manager.  He  had  hired  some  old 
Germans  during  the  last  few  years  and  had  success- 
fully cropped  the  whole  farm.  The  news  from  the 

271 


PLUCK 

old  home  across  the  sea  announced  no  change,  except 
that  Phillip's  father  had  retired  from  teaching  and 
"little  Fritzie,"  now  a  grown  up  young  man,  was  his 
successor. 

After  a  visit  of  several  weeks,  Eda  returned  to 
her  home,  having  Bessie's  promise  of  a  return  visit 
the  next  summer. 

One  day,  a  few  weeks  later,  while  Phillip  was 
sitting  in  an  easy  chair,  dreamily  watching  Bessie  at 
some  needle  work,  he  interrupted  the  current  of  her 
thoughts  by  saying,  "Bessie," — there  was  always  a 
world  of  kindest  affection  in  his  voice  when  he 
uttered  that  name;  years  later  I  have  often  heard 
him,  when  he  was  old  and  gray  and  she  the  cheeriest, 
plumpest  little  grandmother  you  ever  saw,  and  I 
well  remember  how  it  always  sounded  like  a  caress, — 
"Bessie,"  he  said,  "I  wish  you  would  learn  to  speak 
German." 

Bessie  looked  up  in  pleased  surprise.  "Why, 
Phillip,"  she  answered,  coloring,  "I  do  speak 
German,  mamma  taught  me  some  when  I  was  a  little 
girl,  and  then  I  studied  it  in  school." 

"You  little  darling,"  he  paused;  "But  what  in- 
duced you  to  ?"  he  asked  joyfully. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  truthfully  answered  and 
again  she  colored.  "But  why  did  you  wish  it  ?" 

"Well,  dear,"  he  said  slowly  and  thoughtfully, 
"because  I  want  our  children  to  learn  it." 

A  still  richer  dye  for  a  moment  suffused  her  cheeks 
as  she  cast  down  her  eyes;  but  the  next  moment  she 
looked  up  and  said  with  almost  equal  gravity,  "And 
so  do  I." 

272 


HAPPY,  HAPPY  DAYS 

"You  see,"  continued  Phillip  still  engrossed  with 
his  previous  thoughts,  without  for  a  moment  realiz- 
ing that  it  might  be  a  delicate  subject  to  the  blue- 
eyed,  rosy-lipped,  modest  little  maiden  before  him, 
"It  is  not  that  I  wish  them  to  cling  to  their  father's 
nationality — no,  I  would  sooner  be  an  American  than 
belong  to  any  other  nation  under  the  sun ;  but  there 
is  so  much  of  the  best  in  the  stern  old  German  char- 
acter which  is  intimately  connected  with  the  German 
language,  its  songs,  its  traditions,  and  which  I  fear 
will  be  forever  lost  to  our  descendants  when  they  lose 
the  knowledge  of  their  parent  tongue,  that  I  want 
them  to  cling  to  it  as  long  as  they  can.  The  change 
will  come  soon  enough  in  spite  of  all  we  can  do. 
This  wonderful  nation  absorbs  the  characteristics  of 
all  others  and  moulds  them  into  a  splendid  new  one 
of  its  own.  But,"  earnestly,  "I  do  believe  those  of 
the  race  I  spring  from  will  do  it  more  good  than 
harm." 

Just  then  Bessie  suddenly  very  much  disconcerted 
him  by  asking  demurely,  while  a  mischievous  twinkle 
lurked  in  her  eye,  "Is  it  true,  Phillip,  that  the  Ger- 
mans whip  their  wives  ?" 

"Yes,  darling,"  he  answered  when  he  had  recovered 
himself,  "and  I  would  advise  you  never  to  marry 
one,"  he  added,  smiling  goodhumoredly.  "But  some 
Germans  also  love  their  wives  and  treasure  them  as 
their  heart's  idol,"  he  continued  relapsing  into  his 
usual  gravity.  "There  are  brutes  among  men  of 
every  nationality ;  coarse,  degenerate,  evil  beings ; 
but  we  must  not  measure  a  nation  by  its  scum  or 

273 


PLUCK 

criminals,  else  they  would  all  be  murderers  because 
a  few  such  are  found  among  them." 

One  day  later,  when  they  were  again  sitting  in 
much  the  same  relative  position,  Bessie,  looking  up 
from  her  work,  asked,  "Phillip,  when  we  get  married 
where  are  we  going  to  live  ?" 

"Why  yes,  dear,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  ought  to  have 
told  you.  We  will  live  on  the  farm,  of  course.  As 
soon  as  I  am  well  enough  I  am  going  back,  and  when 
the  war  is  over,  Jack  and  I  will  put  up  another  house 
and  we'll  divide  the  land.  He  and  Eda  will  no  doubt 
want  to  get  married  and  we'll  live  right  close 
together."  He  said  this  all  as  though  it  was  a  matter 
perfectly  settled  and  agreed  upon. 

Bessie  looked  up  and  said  half  poutingly,  half 
reproachfully:  "Now  Phillip,  you  have  been  think- 
ing that  all  out  by  yourself  and  never  even  consulted 
me!" 

"True,  darling,  and  I  ought  not  to  have  done  so; 
for  you  have  as  much  right  to  determine  the  matter 
as  I  have,  you  are  as  much  concerned.  Forgive  me, 
it  has  become  my  habit  always  to  think  far  ahead 
and  weigh  circumstances  and  influences  in  my  mind. 
But  if  my  determination  does  not  please  you  we  will 
change  it." 

"No,  no,  dear,"  she  quickly  answered,  entirely 
consoled.  "It  suits  me  perfectly.  The  country  with 
its  green  woods,  its  hills  and  valleys  and  streams 
and  birds  and  flowers,  it  is  where  I  would  most 
desire  to  live.  And  papa  must  give  up  his  practice 
and  come  to  live  with  us,"  she  added  determinedly. 

274 


HAPPY,  HAPPY  DAYS 

Steadily  Phillip's  health  improved;  and  when  the 
beautiful  autumn  days  came  he  could  often  be  seen 
slowly  pacing  the  long  veranda,  or  searching  for  some 
delayed  blossom  in  the  flower  beds  upon  the  lawn. 
Bessie  was  as  gay  and  happy  as  a  bird.  All  day  long 
her  songs  echoed  through  the  house — sometimes  in 
German,  sometimes  in  English.  The  news  from  the 
seat  of  war  made  the  final  Union  victory  a  certainty, 
and  it  became  only  a  question  of  time  when  the  Con- 
federate armies  must  surrender  or  be  annihilated. 
Cheerfulness  and  activity  pervaded  the  whole  North. 

Winter  came  and  went,  with  an  early  spring  fol- 
lowing in  its  wake.  Phillip's  health  was  nearly  re- 
covered, and  as  he  grew  more  and  more  into  his 
natural  proportions,  and  his  features  resumed  their 
rounded  contour  and  healty  color,  chastened  in  ex- 
pression by  his  past  sufferings  and  present  great 
happiness,  Bessie  fairly  worshipped  him.  He  was 
her  ideal,  she  could  not  have  wished  him  otherwise. 


275 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

IN  THE  OLD  "HEIMATH/' 

REGRET  that  I  must  now  draw  my  nar- 
rative to  a  close  and  skip  over  a  long  period 
of  eventful  years.  The  record  of  the  life 
of  a  man  of  the  stamp  of  Col.  Bertram 
cannot  be  successfully  crowded  into  a  book  of  ordi- 
nary dimensions.  Kindly,  therefore,  let  it  suffice  that 
I  give  you  a  last  glance  at  Phillip  and  Bessie  as  we 
find  them  many  years  later,  and  then  drop  the  curtain. 

In  the  spring  Phillip  returned  to  his  farm  and 
resumed  its  management.  By  fall  he  had  to  a  large 
extent  recovered  his  health  and  former  vigorous 
energy ;  but  it  would  take  several  years  to  remove  the 
last  traces  of  his  long  illness.  Another  winter  came, 
and  the  war  still  raged ;  yet  closer  and  closer  the  net 
was  drawn,  until  finally  in  April,  Lee's  surrender  set 
the  country  wild  with  joy.  The  backbone  of  the 
rebellion  was  broken.  The  South  sued  for  peace. 
Soon  the  victorious  hosts,  those  who  survived  the  ter- 
rible struggle,  returned  to  the  embrace  of  their  dear 
ones  and  resumed  the  avocations  of  peace. 

Phillip  and  Bessie,  and  Jack  and  Eda  were 
married  on  the  same  day,  in  the  month  of  June,  at 
the  farm,  under  the  spreading  branches,  in  the  balmy 
atmosphere  of  the  primeval  forest.  Doctor  Lawrence, 

276 


IN  THE  OLD  "HEIMATH" 

Aunt  Aggie,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baldwin  and  a  host  of 
friends  from  the  village  and  surrounding  country 
were  the  guests. 

Bessie's  father  insisted  that  she  and  Phillip  take 
a  trip  to  Germany  immediately  after  the  marriage, 
for  he  realized  the  longing  that  must  be  in  Phillip's 
heart  to  see  his  parents  and  the  old  home  once  more, 
and  he  believed  the  trip  would  finally  fully  restore 
his  health.  His  services  being  no  longer  necessary 
at  the  hospital,  he  placed  his  Chicago  property  in 
the  hands  of  a  trusty  agent  and  came  to  live  on  the 
farm  to  help  Jack  in  planning  and  superintending 
the  erection  of  his  home  and  other  buildings,  and 
make  the  necessary  enlargements  upon  Phillip's  dur- 
ing the  latter's  absence.  Jack  and  Eda  occupied  the 
old  home  until  their  new  one  was  completed,  and 
were  very  happy. 

It  was  a  grand  day  in  yon  little  village  across  the 
sea,  when  one  bright  morning  "der  Amerikaner  und 
die  junge  Amerikanerin"  appeared  in  its  midst. 
Joyous  tears  flowed  in  abundance ;  but  the  sight  that 
touched  our  Bessie  the  most  was  to  see  the  mother's 
tender  love  and  the  father's  beaming  pride  as  they 
looked  again  and  again  upon  their  stalwart  son. 

What  a  meeting  it  had  been,  what  a  greeting,  what 
glad  joy  filled  the  whole  village,  what  welcome  hands 
stretched  forth  to  grasp  their  own !  What  manner 
of  people  were  these  who  could  share  so  generously 
in  the  happiness  of  another!  Poor  in  worldly 
possessions  indeed  they  were.  It  was  apparent  every- 
where. But  such  whole-hearted  joy  at  the  happiness 
of  another  Bessie  had  never  seen. 

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It  was  not  until  late  in  the  evening,  that  she  could 
be  for  a  moment  alone  with  her  husband.  "Phillip," 
she  said  in  hushed  earnestness  as  she  placed  herself 
before  him  and  reached  up  to  put  her  little  hands 
on  his  shoulders,  "I  have  never  appreciated  you  until 
this  day !  I  have  seen  the  stock  you  came  from,  can 
read  and  understand  your  very  heart,  can  grasp  the 
grandeur  of  your  soul !"  And  her  look  of  unbounded 
pride  and  devotion  made  the  choking  lumps  come  to 
his  throat  for  the  thousandth  time  that  day.  He 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  whispered,  "My  Bessie !" 

A  year  later  they  returned  to  their  own  sweet 
home  in  America.  On  the  day  of  parting,  as  the  old 
father  and  mother,  Phillip's  brothers,  and  the 
inhabitants  of  the  whole  village  were  assembled  to  do 
honor  to  the  departing  guests  and  bid  them  farewell, 
the  old  man  arose  and  solemnly  blessed  them:  "Do 
you  remember,  my  son,"  he  then  said,  "what  you  told 
mother  and  me  twenty  years  ago  when  you  begged 
us  to  let  you  go?  Oh,  a  thousand  times  have  we 
thought  how  prophetic  were  your  words:  'The  day 
will  come  when  you  will  bless  the  hour  you  let  me 
go.'  Aye  a  thousand  times  have  we  blessed  it;  had 
it  not  been  for  you,  want  and  poverty  would  have 
held  us  in  their  grip;  and  you,  God  knows  what 
might  have  become  of  you!  '  Today  you  leave  us 
again,"  he  continued,  his  voice  growing  firmer  as 
he  mastered  his  emotion,  "but  this  time  we  have  no 
fear  torturing  our  hearts;  and  though  we  know  we 
will  not  meet  you  until  in  the  great  hereafter, 
happiness  takes  the  sting  from  the  sorrow  of  parting." 


278 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  IiAST  LOOK. 


years  have  passed.  In  a 
spacious  room,  facing  the  north  and  east, 
a  man  is  sitting  at  a  desk  engaged  in 
writing.  Now  and  then  he  knots  hia 
eyebrows  in  thought  for  a  moment  while  his  pen 
rests,  then  he  resumes  writing.  He  is  powerfully 
built  and  well  nourished;  his  hair,  what  remains  of 
it,  encircling  a  large  bald  spot  uniting  with  a  broad 
round  forehead,  is  iron  gray;  a  white  moustache, 
almost  military  in  appearance,  tends  to  cast  an  ex- 
pression of  severity  into  an  otherwise  kindly  face. 
Two  bluish  gray  eyes,  deep  set  and  expressive,  still 
show  the  lingering  fire  that  once  could  blaze  with 
controlling  power. 

A  short  distance  from  him,  in  an  easy  chair,  sits 
an  old  lady  reading  nursery  stories.  Every  few  mo- 
ments she  smiles  and  her  blue  eyes  glisten  through 
her  gold  mounted  glasses,  as  childhood  memories  are 
brought  back  afresh  by  the  pages  before  her.  She 
is  plump,  and  a  look  of  goodnatured  kindness  is 
stamped  on  her  features.  Her  hair  is  likewise  gray, 
but  the  lips  and  cheeks  still  show  traces  of  their  rich 
color  in  youth. 

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"There,"  the  old  gentleman  exclaimed  at  last  in  a 
rugged,  strong  voice  somewhat  filled  with  impatience, 
as  he  folded  up  the  paper  on  which  he  had  been  writ- 
ing and  pushed  back  his  chair  to  face  the  old  lady, 
"I  think  they  will  agree  to  that  and  then  it  will  be  an 
end  of  their  dispute.  I  don't  see  why  men  can't  make 
up  their  own  differences  and  not  trouble  me !" 

"But  papa,  dear,"  she  replied  as  she  lowered  her 
book  and  looked  up  at  him  with  a  kindly  smile,  "I 
do  believe  if  the  whole  country  didn't  come  in  to  pour 
all  their  woes  into  your  ears  and  make  you  settle  all 
their  quarrels  and  'disputements,'  as  old  Boettcher 
says,  you  would  be  perfectly  unhappy.  It  is  the 
great  good  you  are  doing  them,  and  their  gratitude, 
which  keeps  you  in  good  cheer." 

"Yes,  and  often  it  is  not  appreciated,  and  I  get 
only  blame  instead  of  thanks,"  he  answered  half 
surlily. 

"To  be  sure,  but  more  often  you  get  their  blessing. 
Just  think,"  she  continued  in  gentle  coaxing  voice, 
"how  often  you  have  saved  one  or  another  from 
breaking  up  the  family,  and  got  husband  and  wife 
to  live  together  againv  peacefully ;  or  saved  some  one 
from  a  litigation  that  would  have  taken  his  farm; 
and  how  often  you  have  helped  the  poor  in  mis- 
fortune or  distress,  or  turned  a  young  man  back  into 
the  right  path." 

A  more  contented  expression  was  creeping  over  his 
face  as  he  said,  "Yes,  but  still  it  bothers  me,  and  they 
ought  not  to  quarrel.  We  never  did,  Bessie,  did  we  ?" 
And  there  was  the  same  old  familiar  ring  of  tender- 

280 


A  LAST  LOOK 

ness  and  suggestion  of  a  caress  in  the  sound  of  that 
name  as  there  had  been  thirty-three  years  ago. 

She  got  up  slowly  from  her  chair,  went  up  to  him, 
put  her  arm  around  his  neck  and  sat  on  his  knee, 
then  placing  her  face  directly  in  front  of  his  said 
"No,  we  didn't!  you  great,  good,  crusty  old  bear," 
and  kissed  him.  A  satisfied,  happy  look  and  a  warm 
kiss  rewarded  her. 

"Oh  but  you  are  heavy  'old  woman,'  "  he  exclaimed 
after  a  few  moments,  making  a  comical  grimace  of 
pain,  when  her  generous  weight  had  time  to  make 
itself  felt. 

"And  I  could  return  the  compliment  'my  old 
man,'  "  she  said  laughing  as  she  patted  his  bald  head 
for  a  moment  and,  kissing  him  again,  got  up. 

Thus  we  find  our  old  friends  Phillip  and  Bessie 
after  a  lapse  of  thirty-three  years,  happy  as  of  yore, 
loving  each  other  with  a  tenderness  that  survived  the 
passion  of  youth  and  will  accompany  them  to  the 
grave — on  the  same  old  farm,  in  the  same  old 
house  which  Bessie's  father  caused  to  be  remodeled 
while  they  were  on  their  wedding  trip. 

Oh,  were  I  but  able  to  picture  a  life  so  full  of 
usefulness,  harmony  and  love  as  theirs  has  been. 
Never  for  a  moment  did  either  falter  in  duty.  Sor- 
rows and  trials  were  not  spared  them,  for  who  indeed 
goes  free  ?  but  love  for  each  other  sustained  them  and 
bore  their  thoughts  ever  aloft. 

Phillip,  or  Col.  Bertram,  as  his  neighbors  called 
him,  had  held  many  positions  of  public  trust,  local 
and  state;  for  years  he  was  Justice  of  the  Peace, 
almost  constantly  a  member  of  the  County  Board  of 

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Supervisors;  several  times  member  of  the  Assembly 
and  three  times  State  Senator ;  and  at  all  times  was 
he  the  trusty  and  trusted  adviser  of  a  large  circle  of 
neighbors,  the  arbiter  of  their  disputes,  the  helper 
in  their  days  of  adversity  or  hours  of  distress.  He 
never  sought  for  political  or  social  honors;  he  pre- 
ferred the  peace  of  home,  and  honors  came  unsought. 

Five  children  had  come  to  bless  the  loving  couple, 
three  stalwart  sons,  and  two  daughters.  One  of  the 
little  girls  died  when  but  three  years  of  age.  All 
the  boys  were  married  and  had  families  and  homes 
of  their  own.  Eda,  their  daughter  and  youngest 
child,  was  still  at  home,  sought  after  by  many  suitors. 
She  resembled  both  her  mother  and  her  father. 
Some  claimed  she  resembled  her  aunt  and  namesake, 
Eda  O'Donnell,  the  most,  but  she  had  the  rounded 
chin,  mobile  lips  and  laughing  eyes  of  her  mother. 

Jack  and  Eda  too  had  prospered,  and  lived  in 
happy  contentment  on  the  old  place.  One  of  their 
numerous  sons  had  charge  of  the  farm ;  some  of  the 
others  were  located  in  the  neighborhood ;  and  one  was 
a  long  time  physician  in  Milwaukee. 

Sammy  Dornbush  and  his  Rosa  had  paid  several 
visits  to  their  friends  "in  the  west."  Rosa's  father 
had  died  long  ago,  but  her  mother,  now  old  and 
feeble,  was  still  with  them.  Doctor  Lawrence,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Baldwin  and  many  of  our  other  old  friends 
and  acquaintances  were  sleeping  in  their  graves. 

"Bessie,  come  here  to  me,"  Phillip  asked  after  he 
had  stood  for  a  long  time  looking  through  the  window 
at  the  distant  horizon;  "Look,"  and  he  placed  his 
arm  about  her  as  of  old,  while  with  the  other  hand 

282 


•Look',  and  he  placed  his  arm  about  her" 


A  LAST  LOOK 

he  pointed  to  the  scene  exposed  to  their  view ;  "See 
all  these  handsome  homes ;  look  at  the  vast  extent  of 
clear,  rich  fields  and  beautiful  meadows  and  pastures, 
studded  here  and  there  with  woodland ;  see  the  river 
in  the  distance  as  it  sparkles  in  the  sunshine;  can 
you  imagine  how  this  all  must  have  looked  when  I 
first  came  here,  when  heavy  forests  covered  every 
acre  of  it?  and  just  think,  dear,  what  great  labor  it 
was  for  human  hands  to  bring  about  this  change! 
Then  it  was  a  wilderness,  now  it  is  one  of  the  richest 
and  most  fruitful  spots  on  God's  footstool,  a  beauti- 
ful new  'Heimath'  to  these  many  Germans." 

"Bessie,"  he  continued,  as  his  arm  tightened  about 
her  waist,  "I  am  always  sorry  after  I  have  grumbled 
as  I  did  before,  and  there  always  comes  to  me  then  a 
vivid  realization  of  the  great  love  of  God  throughout 
all  the  trials  of  my  life,  and  of  the  crowning  proof 
of  it  when  He  gave  you  to  me  as  a  helpmeet!  'Old 
woman/  darling,  I  love  you  still,"  he  closed  with 
emotion  trembling  in  his  voice. 

For  a  moment  he  was  silent ;  then  through  the  open 
window,  far  out  over  the  rich  spring  scenes  of  the 
valley,  his  still  powerful  voice,  mingling  in  sweet  har- 
mony with  Bessie's  finer  strains,  could  be  heard: 

"Ich  Hebe  dich  so  lang  ich  leben  werde, 
"So  lang  ein  Herz  in  meinem  Busen  schlaegt ; 
"So  lang  ein  Gott  regiert  auf  dieser  Erde, 
"BisGottesEngelein  maleinst  die  Toten  weckt." 

And  as  they  ceased,  as  if  in  response  to  the  happy 
listening  old  couple,  there  came  from  the  window  of 
the  adjoining  room  the  sound  of  a  piano  accompany- 

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PLUCK 

ing  the  sweet  girlish  voice  of  their  daughter,  as  she 
sang: 

"Im  dunklen  Haine  der  Nachtigall 
"Hoer  ich  nur  deiner  Stimme  Schall, 
"Die  Luefte  sausen  mir  deinen  Gruss, 
"Die  Bluethen  hauchen  mir  deinen  Kuss. 

"Dein  gedenk  ich  wenn  ich  erwach, 
"Du  bist  mein  Sternlein  bei  dunkler  Nacht ; 
"Am  blauen  Himmel  seh  ich  Dein  Bild, 
"Im  Sternenschimmer  strahlst  Du  mir  mild." 


THE  END. 


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